Wilting Lilacs
by SecretWr1ter
Summary: Danica is withering in Voldermort's hell. With grinding teeth & surrender she watches as her old self is ripped away, replaced by a tainted name while Harry Potter pieces together his battle armor, bit by bit. Sequel to When the Moon Meets the Sun.
1. Hell and the Gates of Heaven Locked

"Kill him, Danica."

Every torso in the room tightened, refusing to breathe, lungs beginning to burn with the lack of oxygen. Yet no one dared to move. Tension rolled off their bodies and into the air, suffocating them all as they waited in deadly anticipation. It was not wise to keep the Dark Lord waiting. And disobeying him was a death sentence.

"My Lord?" she asked, her gray eyes wide in shock, fingers grasping her wand almost too tightly.

"You heard me, girl. Kill him."

"But I-" Bellatrix quickly rose from her seat within the long row of people at the meeting table, creaking beneath the sudden change in weight. All eyes, filled with menace and blood lust, watched as she went to her daughter, taking her by the shoulders. Danica looked up into the twin irises of her own, fear reflecting in the abyss of gray sunken into her mother's face.

"She will do it, my Lord. She's just a bit," at that moment Bella pinched her daughter so roughly that Danica gasped as she felt fingernail pierce skin, "shy."

Oh, how she knew this day would come. Betrayal wasn't enough. Harassing the lower ranks of the Death Eaters was meek child's play. Strutting around at Voldermort's side day in and day out was no longer making the cut. He wanted more. The Dark Lord wanted to see the extent, the limit of how cruel and vicious Danica could be. His prized possession who willingly leaked the secrets of the despised Order of the Phoenix was arousing suspicion from the other followers. They believed she was a child, still young and innocent at heart despite the contrastingly beautiful scowl she displayed on her face. All talk and no play. That needed to change immediately for Voldermort had no time to waste in wondering where loyalties lie. If she was willing to kill for him, she would never return to the side that fought against him. And in true honesty, she knew he was sick of everyone demeaning her behind her back for her lack of experience in malice.

"Is this really necessary?" interrupted Snape, his coal eyes staring into Danica's stricken expression, mocking almost as he saw fear flit across her face. She gritted her teeth. "Surely we can find another way to punish, torture this filth, whichever suits you best."

Voldermort let his gaze lazily wander to the heap of flesh upon the floor, adrenaline seeping through his pores as his wheezing was muffled by a gag. "No, Severus. If she wants to earn her place as a leader within the Death Eaters in the near future she needs to play the part, meet the requirements. My dear, if you will? We don't have all day to waste." Danica stared at Voldermort for as long as she could; looking away once the smoldering in his eyes began to burn the inside of her skull. He would not waver the expectations. "Or would you rather I leave him to your subordinates so he may be tortured until he gasps his last painful breath?"

"No!" she suddenly blurted out, internally cringing at the harshness of her words.

The screams, the blood curling wails that travelled through the walls, haunting, when they handled captives left her tossing and turning in her bed for days, unable to close her eyes without seeing herself twitching in hell's agony within pools of green. She would be doing him a mercy of killing him. He would die; pass into the afterlife quickly and painlessly.

"I'll do it."

"Marvelous!" The Dark Lord exclaimed, clapping his hands once which caused the room to disperse and form again.

The tables had been moved, pushed against a wall. It's guests merely moments before pressed themselves tight against the edges of the small square they had formed around Danica and the dungeon's previous inhabitant in the middle. From behind the figure, small and trying to mask her trembling, Voldermort sat back in his sleek leather chair, Nagini coiling herself around the back of it. He touched his fingertips together, a gruesome smile spreading across his snake-like face, waiting for the show to begin.

Bellatrix grabbed a tuft of the prisoner's hair, hauling him to his knees, ripping the gag from his mouth. He drew in a ragged breath, immediately begging for mercy. Her mother stepped aside, winking at her daughter who couldn't look away from the half starved face before her.

"Please," he wheezed, "I have a family."

"Liar!" Rodolphus Lestrange shouted, Voldermort holding up his skinny hand to silence him.

"No, I really do. Please, spare me. You're just a child. Why would you kill someone innocent of any crime?" His voice cracked as Danica stared into his watery brown eyes. His face was swollen, purple and bruised from a beating no doubt. His cheek was stained red from a gash that was spilling over the edge of serious infection. Is this what the rest of her future would look like? Killing innocent people who may or not have families of their own, lives that they cherished?

She suddenly felt her stomach lurch as she subconsciously answered yes. Her gaze glanced to the underside of her forearm tattooed with the Dark Mark, permanently drenched into her skin.

"Time is wasting, my dear," Voldermort quietly hissed.

"Please," the man pleaded again, the word 'Werewolf Mutt' carved into his skin as he raised his bound wrists in asking for release. Danica had to hold back bile.

This wasn't a test. This was an example, a presentation of what would become of her if she crossed Voldermort. No one knew of her condition. Not even her parents who took pride in their pure blood, uncontaminated witch of a daughter.

But he did. And this, her killing a man taken from humanity by the vicious teeth of an 'abomination of the earth' was a lesson she must learn.

Do not cross the Dark Lord. Because if she did, she would suffer a fate far worse than death.

"Do it!" her mother's sharp voice commanded.

Without a second thought, before anymore wisps of mental morality sunk into her brain, she raised her wand. Shutting her eyes, Danica tried not to think of those blue eyes and that scarred face that could have been kneeling before her as she muttered the Unforgivable words, making the world spin violently around her until she was sure she was going to be sick.

"Avada Kedavra."

In a flash of green that ignited even from behind her eyelids, she heard blood, flesh and bones thud to the floor, motionless…lifeless.

No one could ever guess she killed someone, took the life from their eyes for the trace of under aged wizards was broken at the stroke of midnight merely seconds before she committed her first murder.

So as Voldermort brushed his hand over her arm, speaking to her softly words of praise concerning her cold apathetic ways, Danica ran after thanking him, bursting through the doors and into the night air where she wailed silently at the condemning of her soul.

* * *

Time was ticking away, wasting into seconds, minutes and days that could never be retrieved. Uncertainty and a future lost within the mist of the unknown is what awaited. Their world was lethargically crumbling, decaying under the stench of the Dark Magic. However they did obtain the knowledge that trouble was stirring, spilling over slowly, soon to engulf them all. So they tried, long and hard, to make the last days of normality the best. Time was racing against them. And for the moment, Harry and the last remaining good in the wizarding world were winning. For now.

Harry stood in the sea of marshy grass outside the Burrow. His shoes and the bottoms of his pant legs were soaked, making him shiver even in the summer night air out in the countryside, the temperature cooler here than in the city. But he smiled upon the house just a short distance away. It stood at several stories high, radiating warmth that could only be interpreted as home, looking slanted and mis-matched beneath the light of a full moon. The candle flame in what Harry knew as Ron's bedroom flickered. He smiled.

"Home, sweet home."

That night Harry happily reunited with the Weasley family and Hermione. All the children, save Fred and George who had been expelled their last year at Hogwarts, were eager yet silently worried for the upcoming school year. As the Golden Trio sat up in Ron's room, talking amongst themselves, they chewed over light subjects. They laughed at Ron's jokes and wondered in slight awe at how the time, their adventures year by year, had flown by so fast. They say in their skin, silently filling their minds with how quickly they had aged.

And in each other's eyes you could tell they were thinking the same thing. If they had never become friends, their stories would've turned out quite different. Harry knew he most likely would've been dead by now. Ron and Hermione would be living simple lives. Harry wished that sometimes. He wished he had never involved them so deeply in his life, putting them and their families in danger. But he was grateful that he was never alone. That was something he could never complain about.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, drawing his attention from the window. He smiled apologetically, turning his gaze back to his companions.

"Sorry, got distracted." He smiled.

"'S alright, mate," Ron said, leaning back against the foot of his bed in his cozy room. "How do you think this Slughorn bloke will be? Just as mad as Snape?"

"Finding a match for Snape is nearly impossible." They laughed.

Before even realizing he was crossing over a line Hermione and himself had secretly drawn alongside Harry who pretended not to notice, Ron said in a heavy voice, "It's a full moon tonight." He gazed out into the sky from his tiny window.

"I wonder how Remus is doing," Harry recovered quickly, trying to distract them and thoughts of the real subject at hand.

"Last I heard the Order sent Tonks over to Lupin's to see if he was alive or dead. The guy hadn't reported for several missions and nobody had heard a word. When she got there, he was beyond ill." Hermione sucked in a breath of air, this new of her former professor bothering her since she had always favored him in his kindness and strength with the dealing of _her _betrayal. "He thought-" Ron hesitated, glancing at Harry, turning over whether or not to say the next part in his mind, "he thought Tonks was Danica. Called the girl by her name and everything."

"Is he alright?" Hermione questioned, trying her best to steer the attention away from Danica. She didn't want Fred to overhear them talking about her either.

"I suppose so. Tonks has been over there constantly. Haven't heard much since."

An awkward silence passed. This was the first time they had discussed Lupin and Danica within the same conversation. Also the first time Danica had been spoken of.

The ship had sailed through uncharted waters smoothly. And to Ron and Hermione that meant a great deal. Harry was healing. That's all that mattered. Because never again did they want to see their best friend as destroyed, as disturbed as he was during the time of the Betrayal and Sirius' death. He had been lost.

But in secret, Harry promised he would never return to that state of mind. He would take whatever measures necessary to make sure he made an effort to return to normal. He didn't want his best friends, not ever, to see what become of him that fateful night in the Ministry.

Even if it meant forgetting all about Danica.


	2. Bound in Death

He dreamt of her that night. In the dazed comatose he wished not to wake up from, Remus saw those stormy sky irises within his blissful slumber.

Yet, this dream was different. For in her eyes he no longer saw the perceptions, the complexity of the life she had belonged to, brewed with locked away secrets she refused to share. All of that faded into innocent, joyful youth that shone brighter than the afternoon sun. Simplicity played on her face as she raced out of their small two-story house, warm and cozy.

He was younger then. He could feel the spring in his step and the smile stretched from to ear to ear as he crouched down. With long black hair that flew behind her in waterfalls of softness, she sprinted to him, stumbling over the hem of her dress, laughing as she threw herself into his awaiting arms.

This is when she was a child. She was his daughter, his partner in crime. So as he wrapped his arms around her small body, he smiled, saying softly against her hair, "I missed you." He closed his eyes, relishing in the moment, the scent of her play perfume on his skin.

But, to his dismay, his horror, this memory had been corrupted, contaminated by the visions that haunted him, awake or asleep. When she should have said, "I missed you too, Rem," the child Danica let out an ear-splitting scream. His eyes shot open and his house in the distance morphed into a long stretching hallway of Floo Networks. The sun exploded above him into glass, showering them in diamond dust. And before he could react, Danica was torn from him. She held onto his shirt as tightly as possible, still shrieking until he was sure his ears would bleed out. Before his eyes she changed, aged into the teenager, the young woman he came to know. Love.

The anger, the desperation returned to her eyes as she screamed at him, shivering violently as the ceiling opened up into grey sky, snow sprinkling over them, a cold hurricane of wind sweeping by, "I HATE YOU!"

As if under the torture curse, he sank to the floor, mouth open in agony, unable to speak, bring her back as she walked away, hand in hand with Rodolphus Lestrange. Before she disappeared within a cocoon of the Dark Lord's robes, massive in size, a giant looking down on him as he embraced his Danica, he watched as the Dark Mark was tattooed into her skin. She said in a whisper, growling beneath a huff of angry breath, disgust laced into her voice,

"You are filth. A blemish upon our world. Remus Lupin, if the Death Eaters don't get to you first, I will kill you myself."

* * *

Remus gasped for air, desperately trying to suck oxygen and reality back into his lungs, feeling as if he had been submerged in freezing water for a long time. His eyes stared at blank ceiling, feeling the cold sweats run down his neck. His throat burned and his body was immensely hot, running a fever. His bones felt as if they would crack and break beneath any kind of weight. Unhealthily beating, his heart beat provided no comfort. Was he going to waste away in this bed?

"Shhh, its okay, Remus. I'm right here."

For a moment, he looked up into a feminine face, expecting to see the girl in his dreams standing over him. He was disappointed, however. But gratitude, appreciation slowly washed over him as he felt a soaked cloth drench his fevered forehead. He felt himself crawl back into sleep's womb, comfort, solitude and silence surrounding him, the last thing he saw in his stricken world being a head of flaming orange hair.

* * *

Knuckles rasped against the door, causing Danica to look up from the sea of parchment laid out in her lap as she sat criss-cross on the bed. Her attention fell back into the present; to the small room she called her own within the recently acquired HQ (The Malfoy Manor) for the Death Eaters. Voldermort had been generous enough to insist upon Lucius offering her a spare bedroom.

"Come in," she mumbled, pushing aside the pages of notes she had been conjuring up for the Dark Lord.

The gray marble floors echoed footsteps as her visitor entered. She waited for them to speak, refusing to look up from her notes, scribbling in the corner a specific spell to use in the situation for a retreat. Silence drifted into the busy chatter of her brain. Irritated at the wasting of her time, she picked up her head to bark at whoever had entered her room but she stopped, her eyes resting upon Draco's pointy pale face. Her nose crinkled slightly as she took in his sullen expression.

"What is it, Draco? I'm busy." She returned her attention to her right hand rapidly scribbling, the scratching of quill against paper once again filling her head as silence drifted back into the space between them. Inside the privacy of her own mind she pondered whether throwing her shoe at Draco to get him to talk. She had no time for this. These notes and blueprints were due in about 30 minutes, to be handed specifically into the Dark Lord's hands. He did not handle disappointment well. Wait, would this spell work on this person? No, they would be imm-

"Do you know?" Danica stopped her writing, looking up only far enough to see Draco's feet shift nervously from foot to foot. It was her turn to be quiet. "Danica, do you know?" he asked again, panic sinking into his usually slick voice. She met his eyes, brushing the black hair from her face. For the first time in what seemed like weeks, she really looked at him. His eyes seemed sunken into his skull. His clothes, she observed, were hanging loosely in almost subtle folds. He's lost weight. The corners of his generally sneered lips were turned down in a frown. Her gaze travelled to his arm. If she had x-ray vision, would she see the Dark Mark settling comfortably into his skin, the raw redness of its tattoo barely fading?

"Yes. I know." Danica thought the light in the room flickered, or her vision from hours of work began to falter or if the shadows were merely playing tricks on her sight for she thought she saw Draco's lower lip tremble. With a twinge of guilt she returned to her papers, the words running together to make incomprehensible sentences. Her mind travelled elsewhere now. "What of it?"

Draco took a few more steps forward, resting his hand on the ebony post of her elaborately handsome bed; his finger nails digging into the lacey curtain that would be pulled around the perimeter when she retired to sleep. With no difficulty she caught Malfoy's breath quicken in his chest.

What did he want from her? Did he wish to gloat? Because she would assure him that she rejoiced with all that she had that she was not the one to be assigned this task. When the news of it first reached her ears she looked up at the ceiling, thanking no one in particular that the Dark Lord wished her not do his bidding this time. So if he came in here to try and feebly place himself superior above her, she would quickly put him in his place. Damned pompous brat, who does he think he i-

"What am I going to do, Danica?"

His voice sounded so pathetic, so desperate for help that her anger slipped from her body and vanished into thin air. He looked at her with such pleading eyes that he reminded her of a puppy dog who had just been whipped. Draco Malfoy was scared. He was scared and he needed her to tell him what to do.

"You do what you're told, Draco. Nothing else to it." she said calmly like a teacher explaining to a child a problem he didn't understand how to solve.

And to her utter dismay, Draco gave a small sob. His mouth twitched into a quivering frown and his forehead creased. She could see his Adam's apple rising up and down rapidly as he kept swallowing, refusing to let the break in his voice be heard.

"I can't. Danica, I can't do it. How could he ask such a thing of me? I don't know how or why. Help me, Danica. Please!" Draco begged, his grip around the pos tightening so his knuckles seemed to ache for release.

In a flash Danica got up from the bed, sprawling her notes across the floor. Before the fluttering of pages in the air stopped and scraped the ground, she had Draco backed up against the wall and with her foot she kicked the door shut. Her forearm pressed into his chest, pinning him to that spot. With her free hand she swiped him across the face, whispering fiercely, "Snap out of it, Draco!" His eyes suddenly drained of tears and he felt his body stop trembling. Clearing his mind, he focused his attention on Danica who was struggling not to bare her teeth.

"Listen and listen well, boy. You were told to get my mother and her team into Hogwarts by means of the Vanishing Cabinet. You were told, under strict orders, to get them there and what else, Draco?" He shook his head, his disheveled platinum blonde hair brushing the tips of her forehead. Afraid of the words, he was. Afraid that by the mere mention of them, the crime would be committed and he was left with no option than to have it written on his soul. "What else, Draco?" she asked almost viciously.

"I'm to kill Albus Dumbledore."

Danica nodded, loosening her grip on him, letting the words sink into his brain now he had said them aloud. "Yes, you are to kill him. By your hand. Do you understand what will happen if you don't?"

Draco swallowed, his eyes staring feverently into hers. She could see it in his irises, the way he silently asked for her to make this all better. From deep within him she knew that he wanted to ask her to do it for him. He knew what she had done. He heard the news, astounded at the taint of it. She had already committed her first murder. And he wished this task had been given to her and not him. He wasn't ready to take a life. They all knew it. Even Lord Voldermort knew Draco would struggle, for the first time in his spoiled life, he would crack under pressure.

"He'll kill me."

"Yes! He gave this mission to you, Draco. Not because you're special or talented or even capable of the ruthlessness required of this. He gave this to you because you are the only one with access on the inside. He gave this task to you because he knows you can't. He believes you will fail and prove to me and everyone else that the Malfoy family is distasteful and has fully been stripped of its honor."

"I need to clear my father's name. I need to do this but I can't, Danica-"

"Yes, you can dammit! You must! Because if you don't take Dumbledore's life he will take yours without a remorseful thought in his evil mind. Do you understand that?" she spat in his face, her eyes storming angrily. "You fix that cabinet, you get my mother inside and you cast the Killing Curse on the only wizard able to stop the Dark Lord from rising to power. Only then will you be regarded with some respect."

Draco opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head vigorously, already on the track of his train of thought. "No, I can't do it for you. This is all you, Draco. I will help as much as I am able to but it will all come down to you."

She released him, going towards the window to watch as peacocks strutted about the courtyard of the Manor. Malfoy came up, shakily, behind her, watching as their mothers stepped through the staggering black gates to the entrance. He shuddered as he heard the _chink _of metal becoming solid and chains locking once again. He exhaled deeply, letting the calmness of Danica's presence spread through his body, strangely taking a comfort in having her on his side. He put a hand on her shoulder hesitantly, squeezing lightly. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, resting her cold palm on his numb fingers.

"You'll push through, cousin. We're Death Eaters now. We don't have a choice."


	3. Letters

Harry limped into the Great Hall, ignoring the eyes that followed him as he wiped the blood trickling from his nose and down onto his shirt. Once again he heard whispers rise from the meaningless chatter that lined the four house tables. They didn't bother him. They were merely background music, annoying he might add, to endure until he got to hear his own voice in actual conversation he wished to participate in. He no longer cared what other people, who had never even once spoken a word to him, had to say about him, his friends, his past or what adventure they had year after year. So he looked up into the enchanted ceiling, watching the stars twinkle overhead like the night sky, non-existent air flickering the candles' flames. And before him was the teacher's table, Albus Dumbledore at its head.

He smiled down his crooked nose, his half moon spectacles slipping. His fingers twirled the end of his ridiculously long beard and even from far away, where Harry barely walked onto the main isle, his sky blue eyes twinkled at Harry. He could only take that as a 'welcome back, my favorite troublemaker.'

As he approached, Hermione nearly choked on her spoonful of potatoes. Ginny sighed deeply, setting down the Daily Prophet to touch her fingertips to her pale temples, murmuring low enough so only those around her could hear,

"It frightens me that he's always covered in blood."

Ron, who had barely looked up from his full plate, registered that his best friend occupied the seat next to him with droplets of crimson staining the collar of his uniform shirt.

"Oy, what happened to you, mate?"

Harry massaged the bridge of his nose, feeling it tender and bruised from the break of his bone that Luna had fixed.

"Draco," he answered simply as if everyone should've expected Draco to be the culprit…waits…scratch that, they did expect that.

"Did you go spy on him?" Hermione asked sternly, hastily mistreating her fork as it slammed onto the table. She knew what was coming next and was annoyed at Harry because he didn't drop the subject back on the train.

"No- I mean yes, well, sort of. Eavesdropping is the right word. But I acquired information you will find interesting-" Harry started but shortly interrupted by Ginny slyly asking,

"Interesting enough to break your nose over?"

"Yes," he said with a smirk.

Hermione, regrettably since she wished the entire matter would just vanish, smacked Ron in the arm with her book to gain his attention. He stopped eating, swallowing what he had left in his mouth to travel to the bottomless pit that was his stomach.

"As you know, on our way from the Twin's joke shop, we saw Draco and mummy entering Borgin and Burke's-"

"You're not still on this, are you, Harry?"

"Let me finish, Ron. We saw them, the unlikely pair, go into the store and we saw them doing business with the owner. Why would they go in there now with Lucius there? What kind of business could they have?" Harry asked them hypothetically, not wishing to hear their opinions since he already knew them. They were there for reasons that should not arouse any kind of concern. He thought otherwise. "While I was hiding on the luggage rack above Draco, I didn't catch anything worth hearing in his conversation. BUT, I did _see _something."

Ginny leaned in closer, Ron and her putting their heads together as to block out any curious ears that may be lingering. Hermione looked over her shoulder and nodded for Harry to continue, now genuinely intrigued.

"He was writing a letter," he whispered, shortly cut off by Ron.

"So? Mate, everyone in this room writes letters. He was probably writing to dear mum or his dad in Azkaban."

"Yes, but if so, why would the letter be addressed 'Dear Cousin,'?"

He let that sink in. Harry had found something out. His suspicion about Draco had been increased when he saw Draco quickly scribbling that letter as if time was against him. Something there wasn't right and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. Because by cousin, he could only be talking to one person he knew of. And with a slight ping in stomach, he saw as Hermione's eyes widened, realizing what he was trying to say. No doubt she figured out what he was trying to say too.

"The bloke could have loads of cousins." Ron said, his brow furrowed.

"No, Ron, he can't."

"Actually…Harry…" Hermione inquired hesitantly, her eyes shifting nervously between their faces.

"Go on, spit it out." Harry demanded, excited that she might have some new information for him. She was always brighter than the rest of him. Any piece of knowledge could help catch the culprit Malfoy is.

Hermione swallowed hard, looking up at Harry with anxiousness in her chestnut eyes. "Draco has two cousins. One, we all know of." She glanced around at all their faces, feeling the name come up as some sort of bile, an edge set to her teeth with she uttered it below her breath, "Danica." Ron gasped as the light bulb went off in his head, Ginny shaking her head. Harry nodded, his only acknowledgment to the name. Yes, he felt his skin prickle a little and his blood flow quicker but besides that, nothing happened. "Tonks is the daughter of Narcissa and Bellatrix's other sister, shunned by her mother's marriage to a Muggle."

Harry and Ron sat open mouthed at Hermione. Why hadn't they ever figured that out? Tonks, the order of the Phoenix Tonks, was a cousin of Sirius. The only remainder of the Black family he actually liked. Tonks alone didn't want anything to do with Death Eaters but fought against them. So that ruled her out and left the only other option.

"Why would he be writing to Danica, Harry?" Ron asked, returning to the subject at hand.

"Because he's a Death Eater," he said in a final tone like his mind had no doubt of it whatsoever. Hermione hissed at him, gesturing for him to keep his voice down for they could be heard.

"You don't know that," Hermione whispered, Ginny nodding at her side.

"Then why else would he be writing to her? To catch up on family gossip? Hermione, we all know, me of all people, that Danica is in league with Voldermort and not only that but not very far away in command. Her damned mother is his most loyal follower and the sister of Draco's mother. Family ties are strong."

"But that doesn't mean Draco is also doing Death Eater work."

"I don't believe that. He's up to something. Something that involves Danica and I want to know what it is."

And with that the conversation was dropped, turning into their new potions teacher and Snape as the DADA teacher. However, Harry wasn't interested. His mind was whirling, considering all the possibilities of the connection that Danica and Draco had made. They used to be enemies that scowled at the mere presence of the other. Something more, stronger, than loyalty to family could have them writing to each other like they were close cousin. The thought disgusted him. Danica, no matter how apathetic he was towards her now, was a powerful witch. Her family, her powers and her alliance with the Dark Lord made her seem lethal, far more lethal than he would've originally guessed.

Harry glanced over his shoulder, past many heads and noise, to settle his eyes on Draco who sat there, ignoring the conversation around him like Harry did, immersed in thought far deeper than the concerns of classes. He noticed too that Draco left his food untouched. From far away, Harry could tell that he did not look well. So tonight, when everyone was asleep, Ron and Hermione would tag along to the owlery to intercept that letter and find out what made Malfoy look so pale, he looked like a dying man.

* * *

They threw off the Invisibility Cloak, breathing in fresh night air and a foul stench of owl poop. Harry spun around, taking in the hundreds of owls that lined the circular room, resting in piles of straw or perched on the metal bars and cages, pecking at their feathers. Hedwig was nowhere in sight. She probably took off for a midnight flight.

"We don't even know which owl is Malfoy's," Hermione said, looking down at her shoes, frowning the mess that had stuck to the bottom. Ron found Pig fluttering around the room in happy zigzags, the older owls looking at him with annoyance on their feathered faces. He tried to hush the bird, showing him his empty hands.

"Well, we know Malfoy hasn't sent the letter yet. He's still in the Slytherin Common Room according to the map." Harry shined his wand underneath the Marauder's Map so he could read it, watching the footsteps of Draco Malfoy sit at a desk, guessing he was still finishing his letter.

"Harry, I have a bad feeling about this." Hermione muttered, staying near the door in case she heard anything.

He looked up into the sky, watching the crescent moon disappear behind summer night clouds. He thought of Remus then. What Harry would give to have Lupin back as a professor. And not only that, he wished Remus was around a lot more often considering he was the only father figure left in his life, the only remaining best friend of his father. Harry had spent day after day wishing Lupin and him had no secret to share, no private thoughts passing between them whenever their gazes crossed. Because both of them when back to the night that altered their life, scarred it in more ways than one. How could he ever sit down over tea and ask Lupin about his past, about his memories with James when that thought would linger in the space between them?

He sighed, tearing his gaze away from the dark horizon and scanned his map. He looked behind him to see Hermione fidgeting nervously and Ron dozing off against the doorway the led to the outside stairwell. When he smiled softly and turned back to the map his heart stopped, seeing Malfoy's hurried steps up to their position.

"Guys, he's coming!" Harry hissed, throwing the Invisibility Cloak over them as the huddled together, Hermione's panicked breath against Harry's cheek. They backed into a corner where Malfoy couldn't run into them. Just moments after they silenced themselves of any sound, Draco burst into the owlery, causing some of the sleeping birds to stretch their wings angrily and hoot in disdain.

Draco's pale pointed face simply frowned at the birds and their mess, immediately scanning the room for his owl. Harry watched him carefully. From his sunken face and dark shadows beneath his eyes, Harry looked at Draco from head, down to his arm where he saw a hand gripping a letter tightly, no address on the front except for the initials D.R.L. Harry looked at Hermione who held back a gasp, staring at him. They had to retrieve that letter.

"Take this to Danica," Draco ordered to a midnight black owl with white streaks entangled in his wings. The owl took the letter in its beak and brushed the tip of its long wing against Draco's cheek affectionately. He ran a hand down the length of the bird's back, whispering to it in an urgent hiss, "and be quick about it, Zeus."

With a thrust of his arm, he sent Zeus into flight, the direly important letter to Danica in its clutches. Harry restlessly waited as Draco watched his owl take off for a few moments before turning on his heels and walking on, muttering beneath his breath. When they were sure he was gone, Harry threw off the cloak and sprinted after the bird who was dawdling outside the archway, having a bit to drink for the journey. Harry leapt for the bird, startling it, his fingertips merely brushing the envelope. _Come on, just a bit more._ He bit his lip, sure he would be able to take it, able to tear it open and read what Draco had to say to that traitor.

However, Zeus, who had been alarmed at a random human chasing after him, soared as fast as he could into the air, dropping after flying over the edge of the stairwell wall, out of Harry's reach.

"Dammit!" he cursed, kicking at air as he watched the black owl fade into the night with that letter. That vitally important letter to her. He failed. Now, he was left with no hard evidence that Draco was following in his father's footsteps. Now, he had lost all hope of knowing where Danica could possibly be in this world and what she was doing in her new life.

"'S all right, mate." Ron said, clapping Harry on the back as he tossed the Invisibility Cloak back over them. "We'll find another way."

Harry stared into the darkness of the tower stairwell as he shut the door softly behind him. He nodded, hoping Ron caught it. For he had nothing to say. There might not be another way. But he knew he had to try.

"I hope so, Ron. I hope so."


	4. Awakening

Voldermort stood there, his robes seemingly made of black smoke billowing softly as the draft of an opened door drifted into the handsome Malfoy living room. The largest window, easily reaching the ceiling with a wide arc as the top, faced the south. Lucius, he had concluded since his return from his nearly diminished state, had spoiled himself since Harry Potter first defeated him. The Dark Lord looked out into the stretching lush green lands of the manor, dark forests congregating at its edges and those ridiculous peacocks strutting clear of his view.

"You summoned me, my Lord?" Peter Pettigrew asked in a scared voice, wringing his hands nervously like Voldermort knew he was.

"Yes, Peter, fetch me Rodolphus. I wish to speak with him."

With a quick scurry and a lingering look the Dark Lord knew he cast, Peter left, murmuring something Voldermort wished to ignore. So instead of worrying about what that oaf had to complain about now, he turned his attention back to a few of his followers spread out across the lawn, darting around with jets of spark flying from wands and howls of pain. He smiled slyly. They had been training, dueling and sparring for several hours now. Even from quite a distance and glass between him and open air he could tell that they were tiring, wearing slowly as she worked them restlessly.

"Again!" he heard Danica shout. He watched as she pushed back the black hair matted to her forehead by sweat. Oh, yes, she had been training also. But she was no trainee. She was the puppeteer, pulling the strings of her subordinates, making them dance across the grass as she let loose all the pent up anger he knew she hid from him.

"You wished to see me, my Lord?" came a voice from behind him, cautious at approaching. He tore his gaze away from his Death Eaters outside and focused on the one who had just entered a fresh wound across his cheek.

"Yes, Rodolphus, come over here. I want you to see the prodigy you and Bella bore 17 years ago," Voldermort said smoothly, gesturing to the empty space next to him. When he had done so, Voldermort held his hands behind his back, watching the girl again as she swiftly made an opponent fall in pain to his knees. "She's impressive, isn't she?"

"My pride and joy, sir."

Voldermort nodded, the world_ liar_ submerging from the swirling sea of his thoughts. He only cherished the girl because his master did. She was a beacon for power and authority, meant for it all her life. And that granted her father smugness for thinking she inherited powers from him. Yes, he was a fairly good Dark Wizard. However, in years to come, she would surpass him, no doubt about that.

"Do you know why she stays here, Rodolphus?" he suddenly asked, breaking the almost comfortable silence that washed over them. There was no answer.

"I-I don't think I understand what you mean, sir."

"Not because of you. Or Bella. Yes, she has gained the parents she had desperately wanted to know all her life. But she found you and was resentful for she had betrayed everyone she had ever come to-" the word felt like acid on his tongue, "love. She stays here because she's scared." Rodolphus let out a nervous kind of scoff that immediately died away before Voldermort shot him a daring glance. "Scared that I might kill her and/or her previous friends and guardian in exchange."

"I don't comprehend what you're trying to say, my Lord."

"Look at her. At the way she moves." With his pale skinny finger, he followed Danica's movement as she danced across the field, combining magic and physical strength to hinder the new round of opponents. "Can you see the way she strikes with such precision and frustration? Yes, that is all her anger being released from the tip of her wand and the appendages of her body. They say emotion, not strength makes the best warrior."

"Indeed, you are right. She's a Death Eater commander in the making."

"Precisely. Those eyes, they are Bellatrix's unless I'm mistaken."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, she looks just like her mother. Not at all like that imbecile that raised her."

Rodolphus restrained a hiss that tried to force its way from between his teeth. Voldermert gave a majestic sneer that sent shivers of Lestrange's spine.

"But we mustn't fully resent him for he has taught her all she knows as of now."Suddenly Voldermort's snake like face turned to Rodolphus. The man could not bear to look his master straight in the eye so he settled for the space between his eyes, hoping to facade his courage. "I have something for you to do."

"Anything, sir."

"I want Danica to be trained in the Dark Arts. Everything you know I want put into her arsenal of magic, am I clear? She doesn't know enough to make it in this war." His cold eyes drilled into Rodolphus', making him stare back. He saw the hesitation flicker in those irises. Oh, yes, he had anticipated this. Greedy, Rodolphus always was. Unwilling to share the glory.

"Yes, my Lord. Lessons will begin tomorrow morning with your permission."

Voldermort nodded, returning his gaze back to Danica who had stunned two opponents, one with her own wand and the other with a defensive spell that rebounded it to its caster. With her wand and hand working, she raised both bodies into the air while still stupefied and crashed them together in the air, a faint sickening crack heard along with jeering shouts from the observing crowd. "Good. She needs all the practice she can get." With a slick glance of knowing to his follower, Voldermort said in a low voice, almost a growl of longing, "I have big plans for her."

* * *

Remus stumbled into the hallway, clutching at his ill pumping heart. His fingers curled around his wand tightly, trying to shake off the ache crusted onto his spine. But he flung himself into the carpeted hallway, cursing the stairs who mocked him as he stopped, afraid to take a step and trip down. He could already hear the cracking of his brittle bones inside his head. But the noise, a commotion had risen from the kitchen, drawing him away from the first clear consciousness he had in days. Every cell in his body activated, jolting him out of his trance of trying to figure out the date, the time as something inside him rattled with a fierce hope. A dream he had encountered in his sickly sleep suddenly tried to burst from his brain and spill out of him as he begged for it to be true.

Lupin, for years upon years, was never sure if he believed in God. But at that moment as he hurriedly teetered down the stairs he prayed for the first time since he was a child. He stretched the boundaries of his mind, driving out the fog that lazily covered his thoughts, and prayed with all his might. His arms felt like lead and his wand was shaking in his hand as he stepped off the last step and skidded around the corner. _Please. If there is a God, a spirit, something, please, let it be true. _He tripped over clutter, fumbling for the door that would be pushed open the moment he made contact.

And so it did. His clammy hand thrust open the door and his eyes were greeted with open windows that poured morning sunshine in. Inhaling deeply, he filled his nostrils with fresh air and not that of his musty bedroom. Everything was as he left it. But somehow cleaner. No dishes were piled in the sink, no bare cabinets left hanging open to remind him of his growling stomach. The small table held all his Order papers and the Daily Prophet but in neat stacks. _She has to be here, _he thought_. _He surely never bothered cleaning his mess knowing that no one ever came to visit. But she did because she hated mess. Again he prayed that his eyes would focus, return to his 20/20 in what seemed like an eternity and he would see her there, sitting on the counter with a book in her hands.

He was partially right. A girl sat there, swinging her boots slightly as papers ruffled in her hands, eyes quickly skipping over words he was sure weren't being processed. But she wasn't the right girl.

"Tonks?" he asked, his voice making him cringe for he found it hoarse and unused. She looked up at him, the pieces of parchment fluttering to the floor as her fingers forgot they were supposed to be holding something. She hopped off the counter rather clumsily and took a few steps closer to him. Remus found himself backing away, utterly shocked and too disappointed to hide it.

"You're awake!" she exclaimed, her eyes lit with joy as she reached out towards him, almost afraid he might fall over. But once again, Remus took a step back.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you-" he cleared his throat, his manners returning to him as slowly as his throat was warming up, "but what are you doing here?" She looked taken back, the smile lightening on her lips.

"Remus, you've been sick."

"Well I supposed so. I found my body unwilling to respond to my body when I woke up but nothing I couldn't handle." Remus felt the exhaustion of all his sudden movements begin to catch up with him. He attempted a small smile. She shook her head.

"I don't know how to say this, Rem, but…you've been out for three weeks."

Lupin felt as though a train had hit him and knocked some sense into him. Three weeks? That couldn't be right. His body felt like it had been asleep that long but his mind suggested he was out merely a day or two. He lifted a shaky hand and put it to his head, letting it run through his graying hair.

"That can't possibly be right. I've been sick before but never enough to last three weeks."

"Then I guess I haven't been spending day and night here for three weeks either?" Tonks slightly chuckled, worry spreading across her young face.

"What?" he asked, alarmed. "You've been staying here? With me?" A finger pointed at his own chest as he stared at her in disbelief. She nodded, her mouth twitching in confusion.

"You stopped reporting for missions. Kingsley was going bloody mad because he was drowning in his own paperwork because you hadn't completed your share. Mad-Eye began to worry when you didn't show up for the meeting. So they sent me over here to-"

"Are you mad? Tonks, that was dangerous! What- what day is it?"

"September 27th." Remus suddenly found his blood boiling, his forehead creasing in frustration as the dates and stars began to align in his mind, calculating the angle of the moon tonight.

"The full moon is tomorrow night and you've been here, in my house, while I've been sick? Do you know the severity of this? My goodness, who knows what kind of disease I have that has practically put me in a coma for three weeks and you've been here, exposing yourself to it!" he angrily huffed, feeling weak as the energy began to drain out of him. Tonks shuffled back, opening her mouth to say something every now and then but stopping when she saw his expression.

"We were worried. I came here to find you horribly ill and not able to take care of yourself. We all agreed it would be best if someone stayed-"

"So send Kingsley! Mad-Eye, Molly, Severus if you had to but not you! If I had stayed asleep till tomorrow night, I would've have transformed, sick or not and came to consciousness and harmed you, Tonks. What kind of stupidity do you think you're playing at?" Remus began to pace before her, the scars on his face beginning to deepen as his thoughts travelled into the future, seeing what could've happened if he hadn't awakened today. "I thank you for taking care of me, Nymphadora, really, I am in your debt but I believe it would be better if you leave as soon as possible. As you know, tomorrow is my transformation day and I don't want you within miles of this place-"

"Don't call me Nymphadora…" she muttered sternly, her eyes flaming.

"I believe we have more pressing matters than that, Tonks. Now if you please, I have preparations to make-"

"Remus, you're being-"

"and I thank you for cleaning my house. I apologize if it was dirty and such."

"Listen, Remus, I understand-"

"Understand what, Tonks? That I could kill you or much worse if you had stayed until tomorrow? That you have a life to get back to that doesn't require you to sit around here watching after someone who could've taken care of themselves?" Remus continued to ramble on, naming the irresponsibility of it all, how wrong she was to stay there. His body began to weaken from beneath him but he kept pacing, not really looking at Tonks but looking past her, leaving her shortening hair unnoticed as it blazed a fiery red. "Do not argue with me, please. I know what I'm saying so if you would _please-_"

"I'm sorry I'm not Danica, Remus!"

Silence followed. Uncomfortable and fuming silence. The sunshine seemed to dim and the hope that he had experienced early settled back in its cage, succumbing to the stabbing disappointment of these words. So he stared at her, his lips in a thin line as she balled her fists, staring him down. From the slight movement of her jaw he could see that she was grinding her teeth.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice trying to mask the trembling. The name brought a ringing in his ears that he could not quiet down.

"You heard me." she challenged, her gaze unwavering from his.

"I don't see how that has anything to do with this situation, Tonks."

"It has everything to do with it and you know it. Don't think I didn't see the disappointment on your face when you saw me in your kitchen and not her." She gestured to the picture on the wall behind him. Remus did not look. He knew what was there. But he couldn't bring himself to look at the smiling face of Danica placed happily next to his.

"If I offended you, I apologize but I am concerned about your safety," he said through teeth set on edge.

"You miss her, Remus, I know…you'd say her name in your sleep. One time you even called me by her name. I don't know what kind of idiot you take me for but don't think I can't see what's going on in your mind when you've been speaking snips of it in your sleep." Her gaze softened, letting the sting of his words fade from tension hanging in the air. She knew all about it. Every. Single. Thing.

And it would pain her, to listen to his memories of her. He would whisper of how she shouldn't play with magic inside the house. When she applied cloths to his fevered head and made him sip his potions, she would listen to him ponder over his worry of her when he arrived to Hogwarts to teach. Her heart would ache when she saw the scene of Danica's accident play before her eyes as Remus beat himself down because of it, over and over again. And then she would hear the internal going on inside of him when he started to fall in love with her.

When Remus saw all of this cross her unfocused gaze, his legs threatened to give out. She knew. She knew everything and he would never bring himself to wipe his words from her memory through magic. So as they stood there in the kitchen, staring at each other, Remus painfully accepted that someone was now immersed in his pathetic life and he couldn't do a thing about it. Now, someone knew the whole truth behind why Danica left. And that Harry Potter drove her to do it.


	5. God, help me

In all honesty, Harry would've rather sat on the maroon covers of his four poster bed and read all day. Not the kind of reading Hermione did in her spare time, thick books about History and uninteresting facts that would most likely be no use to him in the future…most likely. This book was different; much more exciting than a trip to Hogsmeade which he had taken almost one too many times.

Because whoever wrote this book was a pure genius. The cracking spine of this tattered Potions textbook held information beyond the reaches of his mind. Words, ingredients, instructions had been crossed out and replaced by personal notes, bettering the content. Harry thought all this was a bit shady considering the former owner signed his name as 'The Half Blood Prince.' But when he put this revised version of 6th year Potions to use, he found himself, for the first time ever, at the top of his class. Never in a million years would he guess that he would take this keen interest in the subject if it weren't for this book. Harry wouldn't call it cheating, more like guidelines for him to follow, options for him to choose from. In the margins he found spells he had never heard of, illegible thoughts that crammed together in a scrawl of quill and ink. Harry wasn't sure he was ready to risk trying this out. However, he was almost positive on using this on his homework and for his secret pleasure. Whoever the Half Blood Prince is, Harry owed him more than a thanks.

Yet his indulgence in the text was cut short by his red-headed best friend dragging him downstairs by the arm, demanding some attention from Harry since he had been in love with that book since he got it. Harry denied it, causing Ron to shake his head and mutter beneath his breath as he closed the door to their dormitory, the book askew against his pillow, along with his worries.

* * *

Danica stared into the brilliant flames, watching as the light of them reflected off the glass frames of the moving pictures and the black marble of the mantle. The clock behind it, an ancient one with two serpents entwined to make a crest, chimed at the strike of noon. For several moments the sound rang in her ears, irritating the young witch as she jolted her knee up and down, restless. She knew what time it was and what she had to do. The damn clock didn't need to remind her. But she still sat there, muddy boots soon propped up onto the glass coffee table in the Malfoy house despite the dangerous grumbles of their new House Elf.

She watched as the flames licked the sides of the fireplace, flickering and small sparks jetting slowly out of the core of warmth, the logs slowly melting away from magic. Trying to push her thoughts aside, she bit onto her lip, closing her eyes tightly. The intrusion had started again. A storm of memories and strings of her mind's personal pensive began to push on the walls of her barricade. They howled for her to remember, growled for her to listen as they rattled the chains of their captivity. Because the flames had reminded her of the faces buried beneath the remains of what she knew as last year. Secretly she wished those same features of those same people would suddenly appear in the fire, just to see them, one more time. But with a large amount of effort she rebuilt the wall that threatened to release these thoughts, restrained back into the dark corners of her mind where she did not want to visit. There was a task at hand that needed her attention.

Getting up, she pulled her wand from her pocket. There was a scratch in the ivory that faded into ebony, making her frown, wondering where that happened. She had been in so many brawls lately, recruiting, punishing, torturing even that she couldn't recall which scar came from which fight.

"Hogsmeade," she muttered, disappearing from the Malfoy house with a POP.

The air was cool, stinging against her exposed face until she pulled up the hood of her cloak and continued into a snow covered trail that led to the village. Out of the corner of her eye she peered through the darkness of her hooded head and saw the mountainous terrain to her right. And Hogwarts at her left. With a stab of longing she snapped her head forward, refusing to look at the castle in its magnificent size, forgetting who and what resided in it at this very moment. Instead she continued on, watching as her feet made fresh prints in the snow, avoiding any eyes as she walked into Hogsmeade, completely unnoticed. Her nose detected the rich smell of Honeyduke's, her stomach suddenly growling. When was the last time she ate? A wave of panic washed over her as she realized that she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. A butterbeer sounded good right about then but she fought the urge and kept going, soon leaving the shops, pubs and inns behind to turn onto a secluded path, the trees caked in fresh snow as they shivered in their nakedness.

"You're late," chimed a slick voice as she pressed deeper into the nearby vegetation, well hidden by trees that didn't lose their leaves and the shadows their branches cast.

"I know," she replied, swiping the hood from her face away gently. Draco patted her on the shoulder, tensing only slightly when she had reached around to give him a faint side hug.

"Did you bring it?" he asked, peering down at her hands which stayed burrowed in the pockets of her robes. Danica nodded, pulling out what seemed like a ring box, one that someone would use to propose to a girl. With the tap of her wand it enlarged, making her put her wand between her teeth as she held the necklace and it's wrappings with both hands, careful not to touch it.

"Fresh from Bourgin and Burke's this morning. I applaud you, cousin, on coming up with this idea. If it works however, that's the real challenge." She pretended not to notice as Danica shrunk the dark artifact that Draco had tensed, hand shaking slightly.

He nodded and the two headed off back into town, Draco leading the way. Soon he appeared alone as Danica cast a spell on herself to blend in with the surroundings like a chameleon. She watched his fingers twitch nervously at his side, eyes scanning Hogsmeade with anxiousness that could've easily given the game away. But no one paid attention to another Hogwart's student on his weekend trip, even his classmates whose faces and names Danica recognized. Careful to walk in his footsteps to not leave tracks, she followed Draco into the Three Broomsticks, the warm and welcoming scent curling into her nostrils, the feeling of what was once hers returning in her gut. With invisible eyes she scanned the room. Smiles, rosy cheeks and laughter met her gaze. Faces that had merely been peers passing in the halls had become sources of envy, anger spiking in her blood as they took for granted the life they had.

"Danica," Draco suddenly whispered, looking behind him out of the corner of his pale eye to meet the faint outline of her face. She snapped out of her thoughts and her attention went back on red alert, realizing she still had a mission to complete. A task that wasn't hers to bear but her sudden loyalty to her cousin said otherwise. "Katie Bell just went into the bathroom," he informed her, trying to be as quiet as possible and keep his lips from moving too much. She had moved in closer to him, her forehead almost brushing his lips as she looked up at him. "Do you want me to do it?"

"No," she croaked, immediately moving past him to follow her former Gryffindor into the restroom. "You're not strong enough." With a light touch on his arm, they parted ways, Draco unsuspiciously sitting with some Slytherins, engaging in meaningless conversation. Danica headed to the door marked 'Girls', retrieving her wand from her pocket.

She slipped into the opening made by the exit of an older woman, immediately telling Danica that Katie was indeed alone. The slight putrid smell of a public bathroom met her as she disengaged the spell, watching herself reappear in the mirror. She had grown used to her worn out appearance, adapted to the sickly pale tone of her skin and the swallow of her cheeks. Like Draco, she too had been losing weight, her thin frame lost in her robes.

Danica made no noise, standing absolutely still to hear Katie moving about, fixing her jeans most likely. To seem inconspicuous, she turned on the sink and went through the motions of washing her hands. Wand between her teeth she watched from her peripheral, seeing Katie take a step forward to unlock the latch on her stall. Danica turned off the sink, taking her wand in her fingers when she heard the creak of an opening door. She counted down in her head, fingers tapping against the side of her leg, a habit she picked up from Draco.

_1…_

Katie emerged, briefly stopping outside the entrance to her stall, hearing the clinking of a belt and the faint sound of wand rubbing against denim.

_2…_

Danica's heart sped up as Katie rounded the corner, looking down as she fixed her shirt, aware of the other girl in the bathroom with her but not paying much attention. That was a mistake.

_3…_

Katie looked up, expecting to see a back hunched over the sink. Instead she found Danica Lorenzo's face, menacing from beneath a black hood, wand pointed right between her eyes. She wanted to make a sound, fight back and warn everyone that there was a Death Eater in Hogsmeade. But she was too late. Before Katie could even think of her next move, Danica opened her mouth and whispered,

"_Imperio."_

_

* * *

_

"Did you do it?" Draco asked in a shaky voice, looking straight ahead at the snow caked path back to school. Danica, who had once again turned invisible, muttered back to him,

"Yes. Without any complications the necklace should be arriving in Dumbledore's hand no later than 5 minutes after you've returned to the castle, giving you a clear steer away from suspicion." She looked at Draco, noticed the thin line his lips were pressed into, the far away smog dazed into his eyes. Without a moment's hesitation she took his hand in hers, giving his fingers a slight squeeze. "It will work," she said in a reassuring voice, letting go of his hand before the sight of Draco holding the air aroused suspicion from any wandering eyes nearby. They were alone but constant vigilance reminded her that that could change at any moment.

"Thank you, Danica," he said quietly, his breath a cloud of warmth against the winter air.

They took a turn, back into the clearing where they had met. Once again visible, Danica leaned against the trunk of a tree, suddenly exhausted as she watched Draco pace before her, wasting time. Katie would barely be leaving Hogsmeade boundaries by now, having been ordered under the curse to wait at least 5 more minutes to leave the bathroom so she and Draco could scram out of there. For a silent moment she stood there, watching her cousin tread the ground in the same pattern of steps, chewing on his fingernails. She hated when he did that. It annoyed her to the core but she kept quiet, knowing he needed the habit to stay calm.

More moments like this past, her focus becoming lazy as she watched the shuffling of Draco's feet, comforted by the sound of his constant anxious breathing. If they succeeded, this would be the end of Albus Dumbledore. The Daily Prophet would be entirely about him, pages upon pages of articles and the Headline reading '_The Death of Albus Dumbledore; Honoring His Life'. _The Death Eaters would celebrate without end and Voldermort would congratulate Draco, ultimately sparing his life. She didn't want to help kill Dumbledore. He was a good, honorable man. She owed him much more than she could ever give back and she internally cringed at the tarnishing of her morality because she was helping commit his murder. But she had to. Draco's life depended on it and she wasn't about to send her only ally to the gallows. If he goes down, so will she.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted as she realized Draco stopped pacing. At the same moment their gazes met and Danica found goose bumps prickle her skin when she saw the look of horror plastered onto his face, the same ear-splitting scream assaulting their ears. He tried to say something, no sound coming from his mouth, lips twitching in disbelief as another voice joined into the invasion of the quiet that had previously enveloped them,

"Someone help! Help! KATIE!"

Danica acted quickly. In one stride she made her way over to where Draco was frozen, eyes wide in terror and mouth gaping. She took both his arms and shook him till he looked down into her storming eyes, his body shaking and words being of no use to them. They had failed.

"Draco, listen to me. You get to the castle as swiftly as you can. Do not stop to talk to anyone, do you understand me? Say nothing. Create yourself an alibi. They have no reason to suspect you but get as far away from here as possible," she said in one breath, watching as his attention slid back to the scene not too far away. Danica looked too and her heart stopped, her throat closing up as she saw Hagrid pick up the crumpled Katie into his arms.

That's when she saw them. First she noticed the fiery red hair, a mop upon a freckled face that looked gravely down at the necklace and it's useless wrappings. Her eyes widened as a bushy mane came into view, her voice piercing the air as she demanded to know what was going on.

Her body ached to leave Draco, to abandon him and run down this slope, trip and fall if she had to but she wanted to throw herself before them, beg for forgiveness on hands and knees. Grovel and sob, that's what she would do. She would let them say what they wished, call her every foul name known to man, she didn't care. She wanted her life back. Danica wanted the Burrow, the warmth of Mrs. Weasley's hugs. The thought of the kind woman brought bitter tears to her eyes as she thought of returning to Fred, something she dreamt about often. Her entire being tugged at her legs, wanting her to run to them, take the chance of being imprisoned in Azkaban for blowing her cover but she didn't care. She wanted them to claw this Dark Mark from her skin and reclaim the life she had known.

But then she saw him. In the center of the crowd gathering around the scene, Danica grew rigid at the sight of a tousled shag of black hair. Those feelings disappeared, replaced by a thirst for vengeance, the Dark Magic she had been learning suddenly howled for use as she saw him pick up the necklace, not touching it directly. Anger flared up inside of her and her wand began to shout at her, roar for her to take it in her fingers and unleash the pain he had bestowed on her. The wolf within was prowling, pacing inside the privacy of her mind as she registered the fact that the sole reason why she was trapped within this hell was merely meters away, within the range of fire.

Draco saw all this begin to play on her face. He noticed that her right hand left his arm and was retreating behind her, no doubt grasping her wand. Taking a glance behind him the pieces came together and he grabbed both her wrists, making her look him in the eyes.

"Danica! Look at me!" he hissed in her face, his tone bringing her back to the present as a growl was forming in her chest, threatening to give away their position. "Go. Leave, Danica! Now before someone sees you!"

Without another word, knowing if she stayed a second longer she would make all the wrong choices, Danica took out her wand and Dissapparted with a loud POP muffled by the thick cove of vegetation around them.

Draco took off like a bullet. With the secret path he had founded to aid him, Malfoy ran as fast as could back to Hogwarts, knowing Katie and Hagrid would not be far behind. Fear rattled him as he realized that the Dark Lord would demand a report. His death flashed before his eyes as he was struck, hit with the strong fact that he had to tell Voldermort he failed at his attempt to kill Albus Dumbledore.

In between his labored gasps for breath, feet still pounding into the dirt rapidly, ignoring the stitch in his side, Draco looked up into the brewing sky and said,

"God help me."


	6. Dreams of Black

Sirius and Harry sat on the bank of the Black Lake, Hogwarts glistening along the southern shore. It was a dry summer day, Harry noticed. A gust of warm air swept across the water, causing ripples against the glassy surface. Tentacles, only glimpses of them, protruded from the depths, seeming to wave at the two visitors as they talked aimlessly. Sirius, with the handsome arrogant smile of his youth, waved back.

"I miss you," Harry boldly stated, trying to memorize the smooth complexion of Sirius' restored face. Age melted away from his skin. As did the slight worry lines that developed from years in Azkaban. The ghosts that had followed him from the prison walls and settled into his irises were no longer found. Only rich and magnificent freedom was etched into his godfather's face.

"Did you think for one lousy second that I didn't miss you too? Come on, Harry. Use your brain." Sirius jabbed his elbow into his companion's ribs, making him smile and clutch at the sensitive spot on his side. Lying down on the summer grass, Sirius rested his hands behind his head, staring up into the baby blue of the sky. Harry followed eventually.

"Sirius?"

"Mmm?" came the lazy voice beside him.

"Why did you have to leave me?"

Harry immediately regretted his words. They sounded childish, needy and pathetic. But he could not mask the desperation fighting against his vocal cords. For the first time since the death of his godfather, Harry felt almost whole. Dream or not.

Sighing, Sirius sat up, resting his elbows on his raised knees. He almost mimicked Harry's stature, a boy thinking as he stared off into the shimmering off the Lake.

"I didn't want to, Harry. Believe me when I say I was planning on seeing you kick Voldermort's sorry ass one day. I was counting on you getting married to one lucky girl. And I wanted some bloody rascals to be running around Grimauld place with Lily's eyes and your father's untidy hair." The thought drove a sadness into Harry. Faint, but there. Sirius would never get to experience those things. "I wanted to see you grow into the man I knew you were shaping up to be."

"I wish I could start that day over. That's what I think about when I'm not busy studying or playing Quidditch or frying my scrambled brains on a plate with Dumbledore trying to figure this war out. I wish I could've done what I did differently. I could've stopped you from dyi-"

"I was going to die anyway, Harry. Either that day, within the next few weeks, couple of years, maybe. My time would be up before either of us were ready." Sirius' hand clapped Harry's shoulder gently, trying to comfort what couldn't be healed. But he did feel better. If only for a moment or so.

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, his green eyes watching a sly smile spread across Sirius' face as he stood up, turning over a smooth stone from the pile that materialized next to him. He drew his arm back, snapped his wrist, and flung it, watching it skip across the water.

"I can't tell you that, my boy. People, Muggles and Wizards, go through life wondering about what happens when you die. Well, the point is that you'll find out when you finally kick the bucket. If I tell you, it'd be cheating the system." With a wink, Sirius skipped another stone, chuckling at Harry's failed attempt to try.

"Since when have you ever cared to play by the rules?" Harry only smiled as Sirius threw his head back and laughed his deep, bark of a laugh. A tattooed hand ran through his long hair, shaking it out. The image of a huge black dog swam through Harry's mind.

"Since I don't have a life that allows me to break them."

Godfather and godson pondered this last sentence, turning it over and over in their minds like the grey stones in their hands. It was when a comfortable silence had settled onto them, the sun setting just beyond the trees to the West of the lake, did Harry speak the question that had been bobbing its head in his mind.

"You've been with my parents, haven't you?"

Sirius' broad grin fell away. Only to be replaced by the smile of a man whose dreams had come true. It was humble, full of joy and sorrow. It was the journey down the long winding road of memories. It was the pain of leaving everything behind yet the shuddering bliss of gaining everything.

It was the smile of a man who had died and gone to heaven.

"Yes," suddenly Sirius turned to Harry, a million thoughts exploding away into the darks of his eyes like a million of Zonko's fireworks, "I have. And they miss you dearly, Harry."

It was like the sun was spilling over the brim of his ribs, radiating through his pores until he felt he would explode into pleasurable bits, coating the summer grass with all things good in the world. Seeing the shine in his godson's eyes, Sirius dropped the stones and pulled Harry into a crushing embrace. Like clinging to a life preserver, Harry grasped at the coat on his godfather's back, holding onto him. The irrational, dependent side of Harry was trying to keep Sirius from going back, from dying again. If he let him slip through his fingers, he would have to feel the ravage of loss tear at his insides. And that was a place he never wanted returned.

But here, in this dream, where everything felt so tangible, down to the slick leathery scent of Sirius and the glowing window of the Gryffindor Common Room on one of Hogwart's many faces, Harry never wanted to go back to the real world; a place without Sirius, without the peace that lightly shivered onto this place like a blanket.

"What am I going to do, Sirius? I can't fight this war on my own," Harry urgently whispered, feeling reality slap his unpleasant feelings back into his body as one by one, torturously, the lights in the windows of the school began to blink out.

"You were never alone, my boy. You'll _never _be alone." Sirius soothingly patted Harry's back, wishing with all his might that a dream, long after he was dead, wasn't the first place to show Harry that fatherly affection. A top contributor to his list of regrets.

"Ron, Hermione, Ginny…all those kids in Hogwarts, the wizards walking the streets of the already disturbed Diagon Alley, mothers, fathers, children…all of them, Sirius, even if they don't know it yet, are counting on me to set this world right."

"I believe in you, Harry." Suddenly, with a slight twinge of defiance in his stomach, Sirius grabbed Harry's shoulders and held him at arms' length. Staring him in the eyes, Sirius slightly shook him, with a grin on his face and a tremor of excitement in his voice he said, "You are the son of Lily and James Potter. You've done extraordinary things since your return to the wizard world. You were meant-"

"That was all luck and instinct, Sirius, not-"

"_I believe in you, Harry. _Dumbledore believes in you…Your mom and dad believe in you."

Those words rang through Harry, straight down his spine, and into the tips of his toes. He let the stringing of those certain syllables and vowels fill him up, repeating them over and over again. Harry allowed them to sink deep into the marrow of his bones, crust themselves onto the inside of his veins.

Etching them onto the back of his throat, Harry brought his hands to Sirius' shoulders. Around them the dream began to fade. Hogwarts shimmered and glittered until, like an image in the Mirror of Erised, it faded into nothing. The trees on the western shore distorted, bended to their own will, stretched into non existence. The Black Lake evaporated like rain falling upward, sucked into an invisible drain in the sky, leaving a white eternity to surround them until it was just Sirius and Harry.

"Give my regards to the living," Sirius said with a gentle smile, the ghost of arrogance still upon his lips.

"I miss you, Sirius." Harry said once again, deciding to end the best dream he's had in a long while the way he started it. His godfather gave a sad smile.

"You too, my dear boy. Now go kick some Death Eater ass for me."

And just like that, in a flash of pleasurable yet dazzling light, Sirius disappeared, leaving behind a slick leathery scent.

* * *

Harry woke up, staring at the familiar ceiling of the boy's dormitory; the comforting sound of Ron's snoring inching into his ears as he settled into consciousness. The morning sun was filtering in through the window by Neville's bed, coating the floor in what seemed like liquid sunshine. Normally, as soon as he had woken up, Harry would've thrown his feet over the side of the bed and started his routine of dressing and heading down to breakfast.

Today he lay there in his four poster bed, an ache in his chest as the last remains of Sirius' scent left his nostrils. That dream had seemed so real, so absolutely authentic that he was more than sure magic was sneaking behind the scenes. Harry didn't care however. Magic or no magic, it gave him back his godfather if only for a little while.

Most importantly, what he knew in the pit of his stomach was this; he had left that dream with hope in defeating Voldermort. That this war was bigger than him, bigger than Hogwarts itself. That he would fight for his world. And with a glance at the sky outside Neville's window he knew one more thing; that he would fight for what his parents believed in…himself.

* * *

What Harry Potter didn't know, from miles and miles away in the safety of his dormitory, was that someone else had a dream eerily similar to Harry's. One that involved Sirius Black, the Lake with Hogwarts glistening on the southern shore, and skipping stones. One that spoke of the afterlife, of the war ahead, of Lily and James Potter, and the belief that everything would work out.

And that dream belonged to Remus J. Lupin as he slept beneath the loving gaze of a pink haired woman, lazily lounging in the rocking chair by his bedside.


	7. In the Bowels of London

Danica listened to the sound of rain lavish onto the streets of muggle London. Colored umbrellas splattered the crowds as they hurried down into the subways or along the sidewalks, eager to get into the dry comforts of home, a taxi or bus, or in some cases, the bar. Children scurried close to their mothers, clinging to their coats with chilled fingers. Every few moments the maternal figure would glance down at her kid, huddle them closer to her body and pick up speed, no doubt concerned about the possibility of a case of the sniffles or a bad cough. One father had given up on trailing his daughter behind by the hand. So he stopped, ignored the annoyed huffs of others in the pressing crowds, and scooped up the girl in his arms, shielding her from the growing downpour of rain.

Her mind reeled to her own mother and father. They were out, scavenging for followers like she had been doing for the past 16 hours. On returning back to HQ, Danica received a simple 'hello' from Rodolphus as he brushed against her, heading straight for the door she had just come through. Her mother on the other hand hardly spared a glance. The attention given to Danica by Voldermort had swelled deep pride in her mother. But that only lasted a few weeks. Soon the attention turned into private lessons, her mother becoming sour. He drilled Dark Magic into her so rigorously that there were instances where she had to stop and vomit. The Dark Lord worked on an "experience equals knowledge" foundation.

The thought made her body ache and she tossed her head into her arms which lay in folds on the patio table of a little café. A waitress had just slipped by and poured some fresh coffee into her mug, sparing Danica a look of pity she thought the witch couldn't see. But she noticed. Disregarding the thought with a scowl she wrapped her fingers around the cup, bringing the warmth to her lips and allowing the liquid to coast down her throat. With the glow of coffee sliding down into her core, she leaned back in her chair and returned her attention to the bustling of London.

Before she could even take in the zooming of taxis down the streets, spraying mucky rain dangerously close to pedestrians, her thoughts whirled onto Remus. As if seeing a scene from the movie of her life from across the avenue, a fourteen year old version of herself huddled close to the tall figure next to her. His hair was less gray then, his face absent of some of his severe scars too. He walked in long brisk strides, looking back every few moments to see her straggling along, trying to keep up with the speed of his walk through the rain. She called something out to him over the purr of cars and feet, causing him to throw his head back and laugh, droplets of rain shaking from his hair.

The memory caused the pounding in her head to grow. So she closed her eyes, counted to five, and reopened those gray irises, relieved to see only the nameless and unfamiliar faces of muggle London. That's the main reason why she came here in the first place; to escape the wizarding world if only for a moment. Because magical folks, dark or not, knew her face. She was tired of lurking in the shadows, hiding behind a hood every time she went out. And she was weary of the nods of respect from Voldermort's allies. Tired; that's all she was. Of this war, of the two sides, of no way out…simply tired.

That's when a flash of silver and the swish of azure caught her eye. Instinctively she sank down in her chair, trying to avoid the attention. But, feeling foolish, she realized that not a soul would care about a lonely girl in a hole in the wall café. Whether they knew her or not. However, seeing this person amongst a surge of muggles in the pouring rain with more pressing matters to attend spiked her curiosity. So Danica got up, threw some bills onto the table, and followed the silhouette of the man through the waves of people.

"Where are you headed, Dumbledore?"

* * *

Harry loosened his uniform tie with impatience. Nearly growling in exhaustion and confusion he sank down into the engulfing seat of the best armchair in the Gryffindor Common Room. The fire was blazing too much, making his skin stick to his shirt. Nearly strangling himself with the furious effort of pulling his sweater off, Harry threw it on the floor, burying his face in his hands.

Nowhere. He was getting absolutely nowhere with the research on Horcruxes. Hermione was trying, putting aside time out of her studying to help. But they kept drawing blanks. The library had been searched. Thoroughly. Tomorrow they would begin the rounds on the restricted section. There was a bit more promise in those books, their contents practically stained to the brim with horrors unknown. Dumbledore said himself that this was some of the darkest magic available to any wizard so Harry felt a flicker of hope.

Then it died quickly when he thought of Dumbledore. He was having no luck whatsoever with Slughorn. The guy was bloody sly, that's what he was. Avoiding Harry had become a sport ever since he bluntly asked about Horcruxes, recreating the first time Horace encountered the subject with a young and promising Tom Riddle. But that backfired right into his face.

"Bloody hell," he whispered to no one, rubbing his palms against his tired face. Dumbledore had been so disappointed with Harry's progress. Which came down to none.

Peering through his fingers into the flames of the fire, listening to the rain lash at the window, he remembered something quite odd about tonight's private lesson with the headmaster. After revealing that Harry had nearly given up on his Slughorn assignment, Dumbledore seemed very eager to leave. Subtly of course. He simply reminded Harry that results require hard work, in a strange metaphor though, and dismissed Harry. And that was that. Before the door to his office was even all the way closed Harry heard the faint POP of Disappartion. It was intriguing that's for sure. But Dumbledore was always a private fellow so his actions weren't entirely strange.

So Harry decided to turn in. He gathered his abandoned sweater and headed up the staircase, his legs suddenly aching for his bed. The rain was making him so sleepy. Carefully, as to not wake his roommates, he shut the door behind him and shuffled to his bed. He thought of the dream he had about Sirius the other night and hoped as he set aside his glasses, stripped and crawled under his streets, that he would have one like that again. Maybe with his mom or dad.

But he was wrong. As he descended into sleep Harry found himself confronted with strange images. A purple covered book, with cracked spinal binding and stains on the covers. Blood or ink, he couldn't tell. He saw his own hands thumbing through the pages. Searching, that's what he was doing, searching. But he didn't know for what. Spells were highlighted, the words in a language he's never seen before. Grotesque images plastered the pages, gruesome instructions that made his comatose tilt in sickness. Faster he turned the pages, faster and faster until the pictures and spells blurred together and he could feel the edges cutting into his skin, his own blood splattering onto the aging paper.

Then he stopped. Understanding ripped through his searching limbs and his fingers traced over the picture of a baby in the right hand corner. It was hand drawn, sketched to utter perfection with swirls of magic surrounding the head. _Dark magic_, Harry thoughts said as they echoed through the dream. His vision slithered down onto the instructions, not able to make any sense as the scene began to fizzle, like static. In a panic he tried to look harder, tried to register the words but the dream was fading fast. This was important. He could feel it tug at his gut, at his instincts until Harry was crying out in rage. Because the book had vanished, crumbled into nothing but sand.

* * *

"I do believe the time for sneaking around has passed, Danica," said Albus Dumbledore, making Danica stop dead in her invisible tracks. She was foolish. When she skidded around the corner, heading deeper into the bowels of downtown London, she was sure that Dumbledore would either vanish or head somewhere interesting. And by pure fate and luck, he could've been cornered. But it was the other way around. He had cornered her.

She muttered the counter spell to her disillusionment charm, coming into plain sight, her wand raised to his aging face. Dumbledore gave her a smile that resembled someone greeting an old friend at a grocery store. It made Danica's stomach churn. There was the headmaster, in all his wise glory, standing in the middle of a dank alleyway, the putrid smell of decaying garbage lingering in the air, with no wand out. Completely unarmed.

"My dear, I assure you, there is no need for your wand. I will not harm you." His hands were held up in a non threatening way, indicating that indeed he didn't mean to hurt anyone. Dumbledore never threatened anyone unless he really had to. But she was a Death Eater, alone and at a disadvantage of magical experience, face to face with Lord Voldemort's biggest threat.

"I'll take my chances."

"Suit yourself," Dumbledore replied in a breezy way, his blue eyes not wavering from her face. It made her want to squirm. He wasn't look at her but into her. Like he always did.

"You knew I was following you." It was more of a question than a statement.

"Naturally."

"And tell me, Professor-"

"Please, call me Albus. You are no longer my student, Danica."

That stung. Like a slap in her face she felt struck by his words. It was true, nonetheless, but she knew what he was doing, trying to tangle up her emotions. So she played it cool like the Dark Lord taught her. 'Your facial expressions tell all'.

"Then tell me, Albus, why are you here, alone and wandering about in muggle London? Don't you have a school to run?"

"Of course but there were more pressing matters to attend at this late hour of the night."

"Like what?"

"Like a lone highly dangerous Death Eater in the midst of hundreds of muggles. It was a bit suspicious."

A chill ran up her spine. That was impossible. She was only there for twenty minutes. Could someone really have recognized her without her knowledge and rushed to tell Dumbledore? Sitting at that café was a bad idea.

"Why would Dumbledore himself come to investigate? Why not send one of your dogs to do it for you?"

"Those 'dogs' you are referring to used to be your colleagues. Surely you have some dignity left in you to regard them with a bit more respect."

Another slap in the face. Her wand hand was shaking slightly and she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. She wanted to hex him, to inflict some pain for trying to get a rise out of her. But she knew it would be futile.

"You knew I would follow you when I caught a glimpse of you."

"Precisely. I wanted to speak with you."

"Then talk." Silence followed and she wanted to turn and run when his gaze slipped down to her arm. The Dark Mark was screaming through her sleeve. And shame was washing over her as a hint of…loss swept over his blue eyes.

"Come home, Danica."

The words knocked the very air from her lungs and her knees wobbled. Surely he was toying with her, seeking out her buttons and pushing each one. For what? Lower her guard and attack? Rid the world of one more Death Eater? No, he would've had her tied up in the Auror's office by now if he wanted.

"What're you playing at?" Her voice shivered under the weight of anticipation for his next answer.

"No games, my dear."

"In case you haven't noticed, _Albus_, I'm a wanted witch. I've got a price on my head and I'm considered one of the most dangerous dark wizards prowling these streets. _Come home?_ Did you expect me to hand you my bloody wand and say 'Okay, sir, anything for you'?"

"You're acting, Danica. I can see it in the curl of your lips when you say the word home. I can see the desire in your eyes. You want to."

"Lies. I'm one of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers. I'm respected in this circle, a leader. Why would I trade that for being looked down on as a traitor? I know where my allegiance stands."

"Do you really?" he asked casually.

Danica didn't skip a beat.

"Yes."

"Child, you don't belong on that side. Half a year ago you were willing to give your life for the fight against Voldermort." She cringed at the name.

"Yeah, well things change, Albus."

"And they can change again. Let me help you." His tone was so sincere and so kind she nearly gave in right then and there, wanting nothing more than to return to home to Remus. But she couldn't. Her death would be announced in the Daily Prophet as soon as the sun came up the next morning.

"So you can use me as a spy? So you can get the information I know and give it to your little army? And then what? Lock me up in Grimauld Place like you did Sirius? No, you'll send me to Azkaban as soon as I'm deemed useless." She was panicking, the thought of the Wizard prison making her shudder.

"I can rebuild your life, Danica. It would take time, convincing on your part, and pulling strings but it can happen. I can get you back into the Order where you belong. I can get you back into Hogwarts so you can finish school."

"Oh please, no one will take me ba-"

"I can get you home with Remus."

That did it. The physical ache turned to rage and she fired a spell from her wand. Dumbledore merely muttered a word and the shield of the _Protego_ charm formed in front of him and her hex rebounded, making her duck as it hit a trash can. Knowing she would lose this fight, Danica turned on her heels and marched out of the alleyway, readying herself to Dissaparate.

"I know the Dark Lord's plans for you, Danica."

She froze. Her nails were digging into her closed fist as she found herself hyperventilating. How did he know? How could he possibly know? Disgust was slipping up her esophagus, bile collecting in the back of her throat. Danica closed her eyes and willed the nausea the pass as Dumbledore's eyes seared into the back of her skull, picking at her brain.

"Come with me and I can guarantee it won't happen. _I can save you._"

Lies. All of it. No matter how much she wanted to believe he could save her, he couldn't. She knew it deep within herself. Danica looked over her shoulder, gave Dumbledore a glimpse of the broken girl she was. And she gave a sad smile.

"It's what I was born to do, Albus. If I don't do it, someone else will have to."

Then all Dumbledore saw was the skeleton of a once lively and happy girl turn on the spot, and Dissapparate into night.


	8. At Confusion's End

Draco Malfoy howled in pain as his skull met the floor with a sickening _CRACK. _His hands immediately flew up to caress the back of his head, seeing stars behind his shut eyelids. He groped through his platinum blonde hair, feeling sticky liquid stain the light hue a deep red. Panicking he snapped open his eyes, astonished, as he saw the miniscule puddles of his own blood reflected in Danica's dark pupils.

She was sitting on top of him, the front of his jacket bunched up in her hands in what had been an iron grip. But her hold immediately softened to a cautious clutch, her mouth gaping open as she watched her cousin writhe beneath her in pain.

"Draco, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hu-"

"I can't," he tried to suck in a mouthful of air, "breathe!" Immediately she rolled off him, crawling by his head. "Don't touch it!" he shouted, trying to push her hand away. He was rewarded by intense throbbing at the back of his cranium.

"Hold still!" she exclaimed, gently shoving his hands away from the wound, using one arm to cradle his head at the base of his neck. He groaned and the sound made her flinch. Guilt was nesting in her gut, making her fumble for her wand in her pocket. "_Episkey_," she whispered. The wound obviously closed for the bleeding had stopped at the wave of her wand. Draco's chest was rising and falling heavily, and to Danica's relief, he was still, the pangs erased from his pale face.

"Merlin's beard, woman! Are you trying to kill me!" he shouted. She only smiled softly as she muttered _scourgify, _cleaning the blood from his hair and the trails down his neck.

"Alot of blood for such a small wound." Danica helped her cousin sit up, fingers running over the freshly closed wound. There'd be a scar but thank goodness it wasn't worse.

"You let me crack your skull against the floor. Then tell me that you wouldn't panic either," he said fiercely, scowling at Danica. She reached for his hand, gave it a little pat and murmured,

"I'm sorry."

He sighed, closed his eyes for a few moments before opening them back up to study her sad face. His lips turned up slightly, giving what he could of a forgiving smile. But it quickly faded as he remembered why she had tackled him in the first place.

"No, forgive me, Danica. I failed you." He locked gazes with her, silence engulfing them for a few moments while they searched each other's faces. And for the first time since they had been introduced as cousins, Draco and Danica realized that they both had the same cool grey eyes.

"No, it could've worked. If that Slughorn bloke hadn't been so generous," she said with the hint of sigh. Sitting cross legged on the floor, fingers twirling strands of her hair as she chewed on her lip, Draco knew she was bothered. Because Ron Weasley had almost died in the failed attempt.

In all honestly Draco wouldn't have minded if the bloke had died. There would be no evidence or even whisper that Draco was responsible. But he knew Danica would've been upset, would've stopped talking to him. She loved the Weasley's, he knew. So he kept those thoughts quiet as he staggered up to stand. Soon enough they both sank into the black leather couches of his family's sitting room.

"We need a new plan," he quietly urged, glancing sideways at her. She was hunched over, face in her hands, elbows on her knees, muttering to herself before she replied out loud,

"I know. Third time's a charm, they always say."

"Not if you're trying to kill Albus Dumbledore."

The scene of Danica's encounter with the headmaster played back in her mind. She tried to rewind it like a tape, rewind to hear him repeat things. Skip ahead to get to the important parts. And pause when she felt like his facial expressions were giving away more than his voice. He was truly sincere? Would he get her home, back to the right side?

She hadn't told Draco about it. For a long time, on the night that he was returning from Hogwarts, she sat up and thought about whether or not she should. He would never betray her, she knew that. But what would he say? 'Go, Danica. Get as far away from here as you can and don't look back'? Or with hurt eyes would he tell me 'You can't leave me here by myself, Danica. He'll kill me. But only after he kills you.'? Draco was the first person to flash into her mind when she rejected Dumbledore's help. Because the truth was that he wouldn't last without her. And like she said before, if Draco would face the gallows, so would she.

Danica opened her mouth to start explaining about that night, about the rain, the people, the little café on the corner, and Dumbledore when the door slammed open. They both went rigid as duty called.

"Oi, Danica!"

The intensity in the voice calling her made her freeze over, her emotions wiping clean from her face. She gave Draco one last fleeting glance, straightened up, chin high, and marched over to the messenger.

"And you are?" she spat, eyeing the Death Eater up and down with a scowl on her face. He was grimy, with oily hair and spoiling teeth. Arrogance was swirling around in his eyes as he hungrily gazed at her, a smile spreading across chapped lips. Immediately Draco was at her side, a menacing look on his face as he stood shoulder to shoulder with her.

"Troy Williams." His voice, raspy and congested, made Danica's eyes narrow, disgust obvious in the arch of her eyebrows.

"And who the hell do you think you are, Williams? Stomping into my family's home, shrieking the name of your," she stepped forward, his breath stinking of bad hygiene, and jammed a finger into his chest, "commander with such disrespect. I do not tolerate disrespect." Her voice was like whips, making Troy work hard not to shrink back. He tried to be brave, puffed out his chest and said gruffly,

"Tolerate? You's nufin but a kid."

"A kid who can send you into the corner with your tail between your legs." Her eyes nearly narrowed to wolf proportions, the gray stirring into a stormy dark color. Troy watched, fear suddenly inching up his spinal column as she grew angrier. He swallowed. But he was a stubborn one, an overconfident one.

"Look 'ere, miss. I can take you's out fo some supper, 'ave ourselves a liddo date, and calls it even." Danica was disgusted, enraged. She's had fellow Death Eaters come on to her before but this one, with his decaying teeth and the nasty lust in his eyes, made her blood boil. A growl was bubbling at the base of her throat as Troy waited expectantly, as if she was actually considering his offer.

"No, you look here you bloody pig," Draco grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulling him up to his full height, teeth bared in a predatory way, "you must be new to the Dark Lord's side." His gray eyes slipped to the man's wrist as he tried to claw away from Draco's grip, not making any sudden movements for Danica's wand was pointed at his temple. "Death Eaters do not give out their respect to meaningless scum like you. Do you think you're important, that you're strong? Unlike my cousin and I, you don't even have the Dark Mark. You are nothing but a dirty lowlife follower. Now go make yourself useful, get out of my sight, and fetch us a _real _Death Eater. They won't be as kind as I and let you walk out of here without the sting of the Cruciatus curse"

Danica was chuckling, watching as Troy's pupils grew the size of saucers. The rug had been pulled out from beneath him, his game flipped over with the pieces flying through the air. He was a nobody. Just a slimy weakling who didn't even have his wand drawn. Draco shoved him away from him quickly and harshly like he was afraid that Troy might be contagious. With a heavy thud Troy met the floor, panting and stuttering heavily in anger. Draco looked over at his cousin, and winked. She gave a dazzling smile, one he hadn't seen in a long time. Maybe his few days at home for Christmas break wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

Suddenly she threw an arm out and pushed Draco away from her, a curse whizzing between them. It was so close he could feel the heat of it brush against his ear. With wild eyes he turned back to Troy who was on his feet, wand raised, lips forming the words of another curse. He looked ravaged by hurt pride, rage pumping in his dirty little heart. Draco was about to swivel his arm around and throw a nasty hex at the guy but Danica was quicker. Draco only had enough time to look away.

"_Crucio."_

Draco watched as Danica kept her wand pointed at the writhing body on the floor. He watched the jump in her jaw as she clenched her teeth, trying to focus on something other than the blood curling screams of Troy Williams as his bones were set on fire.

Duty calls.

* * *

Lupin was only half listening to Tonks as she went on about something interesting in the Daily Prophet. He wasn't being rude. Honestly, he always listened intently when she talked. Remus had a genuine interest in what she had to say. But today, with Order notes strewn across the table and three cups of coffee in his stomach, Remus couldn't keep his mind off of other things. He would catch slivers of her monologue but nothing more. Instead he was staring at the result of setting his mug on top of some papers. There was a ring of brown moisture distorting the ink on the parchment, the black words becoming runny. He could no longer make out the meaning of that sentence although he had already read it two and a half times. But he always came back to the same thing; his dream last night.

He was searching through a book. A nasty one, Remus might add. The Dark Magic residing in it was almost tangible as his fingers skimmed across page after page, prickling his skin. Blood was splattered across a certain section, making his senses alert, tempting him to look over his shoulder and check for danger. But the book tugged at his attention, pulled him back into its grasps until he was frantic, something Remus Lupin never was. He could feel his goal getting closer, his fingertips tingling with an unpleasantly warm sensation as the pages got more gruesome and vivid.

Then he stopped. He gazed at the picture of an angelically perfect baby, the spells and instructions too foreign to process. But there was something deeply wrong with seeing this. It grated along his bones, raised the hair on the back of his neck, made his collar suddenly uncomfortably tight. His heart was hammering inside his ribcage when the dream had begun to slip away. Remus tried to hold on, tried to keep it in sight, tried to piece some of this together but none of it made sense. He let out a howl of ra-

"Remus?"

He snapped back into the present.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry Dora, what were you saying?" He busily picked up a stack of work, straightened them out, and set them back down. Tonks watched him closely.

"Are you alright, darling?"

Remus nearly jumped at the pet name. He had gotten used to dear but wasn't darling a step ahead of that? His hair began to itch his forehead and he tried to act normal. He had never had a girlfriend before. Remus knew a small number of girls that had fancied him through his Hogwarts years. A trickle had taken a liking to him during the years after but of course, he could never get too close. It was all risky business.

"Yes, I'm fine." He gave a strained smile. She wasn't convinced however. Tonks laid down her paper, got up and circled around the table to stand behind his chair. Her hands settled onto his shoulder and Remus relaxed a bit.

"You don't seem fine," she inquired, fingers tracing over the outline of his broad yet skinny shoulders. Her touch was nice, he'll admit that. There was a warmth pulsing from her high spirits and comfort. And he was pleased that he didn't spend most days alone anymore.

But his mind would shut down when she got close to him sometimes. There was a rhythm his heart would beat to when things felt…out of place. Like now, to be brutally honest, Remus wanted to be alone. He wanted to sit in his empty house and ponder his dream.

"Tonks, I'm going to head into Diagon Alley for awhile. I need to pick up a few things," Remus announced, avoiding her eyes as he wandered to the coat hanger to grab a jacket. He hated lying. Especially to her but today the house was groaning, pressing in from all sides. And in his core he knew he wanted Tonks to be there. He wanted her breath to linger on his ear like it did awhile ago. He wanted to smell her presence mingling with his. Another warm body to fill the obvious empty spaces.

But they were prowling today, crawling the lengths of his arms until he felt infested with thoughts of _her. _Not even Dora could ease that aching inside him as he thought he heard the faint thumping of bass against the walls, favorite lyrics of hers seeping from under the forbidden door to her room.

Or so he thought.

He was halfway out the door, eyes throbbing and arms heavy when he felt long fingers grasp his wrist. Remus sighed, not wanting to lie to her face again. But she pulled until he had to look at her. Expecting to see hurt eyes and the shape of _why _against her lips, he tried to give a comforting smile.

Suddenly his lips were locked in a kiss that sent a rush through his body and a surprise gasp that fell onto Dora's mouth. She was kissing him, _really _kissing him. Remus' first instinct was to pull away, to turn and run like he always did because this felt wrong. But he found his head leaning downwards. He found his fingers tilting up her chin, and his lips surrending to the sweet taste of hers. His arms were snaking around her and he realized that the only wrong thing about kissing Tonks was that he should've done it earlier.

* * *

"Hold it, Danica." She tried. Sweat was breaking from her brow, her back was almost buckling beneath an invisible weight as she hunched over, hair tangling in her perspiring face. Her legs began to quiver beneath her, muscles on the verge of tearing as she stared into the Dark Lord's eyes above her, his wand pointed at her face.

"I can't anymore…" she gasped.

Her bones were suddenly set on fire, her cells screaming out in agony as she gave into the Cruciartus Curse. It was like someone was trying to dig the marrow from her bones with a searing hot knife as she twitched upon the floor, mouth open and howling. She felt as if her spine was going to be ripped apart.

"Stop! Ple-" she let another cry as Voldermort swiped his wand through the air, watching with only faint amusement as she was sent flying into the wall behind her, a picture of Lucius and Narcissa crashing down beside her.

"Do not beg for mercy! I will not tolerate such weakness from you!" he commanded, twitching his wand again to raise her into the air. She was still writhing, feeling as if her whole body was coming unhinged when he dropped her onto the shards of glass below, pieces slicing into her skin.

She did what he said; she held it in. Her body was being tossed around like a rag doll, injury after injury until she was on the verge of blacking out. But she kept her screams in. Her face still contorted with the pain but the Dark Lord seemed satisfied that she didn't make another sound. So he finally let her down.

The last thing she saw before passing out was the Dark Lord's face. It was looming over her, a curious snake investigating prey. He traveled his red eyes down her jungle of hair and her internally mangled body. Danica was trembling, shaking violently as she tried to even move a muscle. But she couldn't. He gave a _tsk, _using three long white fingers to turn her throbbing head to the side. Examining a gash he gave another disapproving noise as she slightly recoiled from his touch.

"That's impolite, Danica."

The Dark Lord looked over his shoulder at Draco who had entered to deliver a message, his eyes going wide when he saw the chaos. He took a step to the tortured Danica, only to be stopped by a patient hand telling him to wait. Draco stopped in his tracks.

"I want her cleaned up by 7. Walking and talking by then, my boy, do you understand?" Voldermort studied her fading consciousness, a terrible smile spreading across his pale lips. "Important business that her and I must attend."

And with the fleeting look of greed flashing across her master's face, Danica stepped into her dreams of sky blue eyes; afraid to wake up to what was waiting for her.


	9. Breaking the Stallion

Danica was surrounded by food. She hungrily raked her eyes over the length of the long dining room table, steaming, succulent food seducing her stomach in intervals of longing and disbelief. Roasted pig occupied the center, surrounded by an array of side dishes. Twice baked potatoes, pasta salad nearly spilling over with fresh vegetables, buttery corn on the cobs, and a tray of cheese and crackers made her hunger a palpable pang.

"You look so malnourished, my dear. Help yourself," a cool voice said as he peered through the silver candle sticks at her, the flames flickering as if the breath of his speech had brushed over them.

"My Lord, I don't mean to sound ungrateful," Danica swallowed, trying to drench the dryness in her throat as she watched a house elf pour her a tall glass of pumpkin juice, "but I don't think all this is necessary. I would've been happy to eat with the Death Eaters in the kitchen."_ Away from you_, she mentally added.

His eyes flashed as he seemed to read her mind. Immediately she dropped her focus to her lap, her fingers playing with the hem of the black dress he requested her to wear as the house elf served her a plate. Danica gave a shiver as she felt the simple silver chain straps of the ebony silk chill beneath his stare.

"Is my company insufficient for you?"

"No, my Lord! I just didn't want you to go to all the trouble…" her voice trailed off as she felt the falseness of her words on her tongue. He could feel her lie, breathe it in like smog settling across a city.

"Eat. Before your dinner gets cold."

Danica became suddenly aware of Nagini slithering against the elaborate rug beneath the table. She felt a brush of scales against her ankle. In a surge of fear she picked up her fork and delicately poked it into a slice of pork, placing it in her mouth. Her taste buds were delighted, her stomach nearly roaring in hunger as she chewed. It took a large amount of effort to keep her wolf tendencies at bay. She wanted to dive into the food, to scarf down this plate and ask for another. Because honestly, Danica couldn't remember the last time she had a full meal. More than half the time Draco forced her to eat.

But she remained civilized, polite even as she dabbed at her mouth with a white napkin, the Malfoy emblem lingering in the corner, as she continued to eat. But Voldermort, however, didn't even pick up a fork. He didn't even acknowledge the house elf or the plate of food as it was set before him. Instead he locked his eyes onto her pale face, watching as she nurtured her body back to a stable health. The Dark Lord was slightly surprised at the fact that the beating he gave earlier didn't break her body. He could still see the remnants of a black eye.

"Satisfied, Danica?"

"More than enough, my Lord," she replied, giving as much of a smile that she could. Planting her feet firmly on the floor as she avoided squirming in her chair, Danica drank from her glass, watching him over the rim.

"Then tell me, my dear," he got up from his seat, and glided over to the fireplace, "do you miss home?" The light of the flames danced against his ghostly face, the glint in his snake slit eyes sending a shiver down her spine. She hesitated, knowing he could detect a lie. And not telling the truth would only anger him. Danica was still recovering from this morning, she recalled as she absently ran a finger over a new scar that resided on her cheek. Suddenly he was there beside her, his long white fingers reaching out. Danica held absolutely still, barely even breathing as she watched him stroke the scar with a mockery of concern in his expression. It seemed to burn beneath his touch.

"My life here with Draco and the Death Eaters, fighting your war, is incredibly suitable for…" She couldn't finish the sentence. It lingered there in her mouth like a bad taste that wouldn't wash away. So she looked away from Voldermort, knowing he was seeing right through her words, right through her crumbling façade as she thought about home.

"For a monster like you?" he asked, slyly smiling as he felt her heartbeat quicken beneath his graze against her collarbone. "That's not what I asked." His tone became sharper, making her cringe. "Do you miss home, Danica?" When she didn't answer, he added in a low voice, almost a whisper as he bent lower to speak into her ear,

"Do you miss your Lupin?"

And there it was. Voldermort chuckled coldly as she snapped her eyes to stare ahead at the opposite wall, her body going completely rigid as his fingers snaked up into her hair. She was building the wall, blocking thoughts of _him _out as to keep her composure. Voldermort liked that about her, that she never lost control. He had hardened her into a warrior, steering her apathetic ways to mirror his. Because she would soon use her coldness to strike fear into the heart of their men.

But then boldness swept over her, a trait he would have to beat out of her when she was addressing him because it would simply not do. Danica looked up into his face and gave a cheeky smile, one that spoke of knowing and schemes. Everyone knew that the Dark Lord could read minds when he wanted, that he could tap in and have a look around whenever he wished. So she lit up a thought in her head like a bright neon sign, one that called his attention until he could no longer resist his curiosity.

_Jealous of a werewolf, my Lord?_

Danica cried out as he yanked back her hair, placing his foot against the leg of her chair because the force of his pull nearly sent her toppling over. He could feel the threads starting to tear from the scalp. So he jerked her head again, tilting her head back so he could see her terrified eyes.

"Do you miss him!" he roared, throwing away his grasp on her so that she fell over, the chair staggering onto her frail body. Nobody questioned him like that, accused him of such absurdity. And right to his face too! This wild stallion still needed some breaking.

With his wand he sent the chair flying towards the door that had just opened. It shattered into splinters right next to Antonin's head. He ducked back into the doorway, leaving when he sensed that the Dark Lord still wanted to be left alone with the girl. And he was right considering that Voldermort had flicked his wand again, rising the crumpled Danica from the floor. She tried to back away from him, fear pumping through her body like a lethal drug.

He felt his dark magic tugging at his veins, flowing to his fingertips as he chanted a spell in his head, a cruel smile spreading across his face. With his left hand he mimicked the action of holding her by the throat. She clawed at the invisible fingers on her neck, struggling for breath. Voldermort created a swirl in the air with his wand, pointing it at Danica right between her eyes. A blast that felt like hurricane wind swept through the dining room, blowing the candles out and darkening the fire until she felt like she was swimming in blackness. Even the moonlight seeping through window had dimmed until there was nothing left.

Then she was screaming. She was lashing out, crying out the name of that damn werewolf. Growls were ripping from her throat, directed at Voldermort, as she tried with all her fatigued might to get away from his magical grasp. She wailed and howled until her own ears hurt. Because the Dark Lord had conjured a spell to make her mind warp into a whirlpool of her greatest fears. She felt her mind unscrewing, tangling into a mess that sent the circuit board of her brain to fry. Fear and grief were racking through her body, threatening to stop her heart.

He had painted the scene of a burning open field. Blood seemed to be splattered everywhere, coating the grass, splattered against tree trunks. Even the sky seemed to be streaked with the blood of innocent wizards. The Weasley's lay motionless in a pile. They looked like trash left out for the dogs. George's arm was hanging from an odd angle and Arthur Weasley was a mass of a blackened flesh. They hand burned him after they killed him. A banner marked with blood hung above their heads. "Blood Traitors" it said. Danica tried not to look for Fred, but knowing he was dead sent her into a spasm of sobs.

Hogwarts was crumbling in the distance, coming done brick by brick. The teachers had been lined up before the Death Eaters, bound and on their knees. They were being executed. When their turn had surfaced, most were crying out the names of their children or spouses. Others kept their heads high until a flash of green smacked the life from their bodies. Professor McGonagall looked at Danica when it was her turn to die and whispered,

"This is your fault."

Then she was watching all her classmates being tortured, withering on the ground in agony as their parents used their throats and voices to unleash their sorrows. The Death Eaters had rounded them up, forced them to watch as their children lost their minds and died to the power of the Cruciartus curse. She could feel the anguish of losing a child wash over repeatedly until she was sure she would throw up. All the children's eyes were open when they took their last rattling breath. And they were looking at Danica. She knew they were dead, that life had left them only seconds before. But they lay there, bloody and dirty, chanting until she fell to her knees, clasping her hands over her ears to try and get away from the haunting sound of their voices telling her,

"This is your fault."

Danica was losing her mind. The trees were bending in odd shapes, the sky churning in unnatural colors. The Death Eaters had grown pulsing wings, the Dark magic etched into each feather was shimmering in swirls that made her head throb painfully. They took to the sky, shooting down everything in sight that moved, killing every witch, wizard and child unmarked by Voldermort's symbol. The sound of wands snapping was echoing through her skull, the memories of hundreds of lives puncturing her brain in splinters. Snakes were crawling on their bellies through the bodies, thousands of them, hissing and slithering, all with Voldermort's eyes.

And then she saw him. Tattered and bloody, limping and trembling, Remus ran to her. She tried to get up, tried to rise to her feet but she was cemented to the ground. Her back suddenly curved, spine curling beneath her skin until she leaned forward, bowing to ghostly white feet in front of her. But her eyes followed Remus' progress across the field. Green curses were flying towards him from every direction, showering like rain. He was dodging and stumbling, somehow still avoiding each curse until he was only feet from her. Danica cried and screamed for him, to run far away from here. _Because you're going to die. _

Then she blinked. And that was all it took for a pack of werewolves to tackle Remus to the ground. She wailed and shrieked his name, her vocal chords stretching and tearing as she tried to be heard over Remus' howling and the hungry snaps of the other wolves. They were ripping him to pieces.

Rain actually started falling then, the water like acid bleeding into her skin. It was washing over the entire field, setting fire to the grass and melting the flesh from the bodies. She could still hear Remus crying out for her even though he was already dead, his body strewn across the ground in bits. His screams were swirling around her until she felt suffocated, until she begged her Lord to let her die with him, to let her die with the people whose blood stained her melting hands.

* * *

The Dark Lord left Danica there on the floor, a heap of sobs and wails that the house elf tried to untangle when he had closed the door behind him. He glided through the marble halls until he was out into the open air, approaching the black iron gate of the Malfoy Manor.

"I'll take that as a yes. You do miss him."

With a loud _pop _the Dark Lord disapparated, too disgusted with the fact that he could still hear the cries for her werewolf as her mind stitched itself back together.

His stallion had been broken.


	10. Because I Dreamt It Too

The Burrow was a bustling nest of holiday spirit. The boys had strung up golden lights in the trees, a festive new look adorning the front lawn. Gnomes were running around, quite agitated, since Fred and George had magically attached Christmas hats to their unwilling heads. A fussy moth eaten wreath was hanging from the front door to greet visitors and guests. And in the window was a crooked tree decorated with homemade ornaments that moved about, drifting and singing carols, as they fed off the warm energy inside.

Harry, Hermione and Ron were sprawled out on the floor, bellies full and eyes heavy as they stretched out by the fire, talking quietly. Molly was cleaning up the dinner mess, humming to the tune of an old song slipping through the radio. The Twins had retired to their room, heads ducked together with stacks of paper in their arms, wands stowed away behind their ears as they conversed about the Joke shop. Lupin was in a lazy conversation with Arthur Weasley, talking about Muggle contraptions that the patriarch couldn't quite understand.

Remus' heart wasn't in it, though. He had eaten more than he had in days and Molly's cooking always put him in a daze as he tried to stay awake through the food coma. But worry was nagging at the corner of his mind as he saw Mrs. Weasley's expression when he had arrived earlier, asking about whether Tonks had stopped by or not. She looked at him sadly and nodded her head, a knowing and comforting smile on her rosy lips.

"Don't play with her feelings, Remus, dear. Beneath the Order business and the Auror duties, she's still a woman," she had told him after she explained that Tonks only dropped by. Lupin bobbed is head in what he hoped looked like understanding and retreated into the living room to find the Twins. They always seemed to brighten his mood.

But now he couldn't help thinking about her. They had kissed the other day. And it was a wonderful kiss. Soon after that Remus had broke it to Tonks that he didn't think it was right for her to be dropping by all the time since she was stationed in Hogsmeade. He was too old, too poor, and just too abnormal for her. Tonks hadn't taken it well. She stormed out of the house that day and hasn't spoken to him since. He was hoping he could talk to her here. His hopes didn't last long.

Mr. Weasley excused himself from the room, heading into the kitchen to help Molly. So Remus was left there with the three teenagers who had relocated to the empty couches and chairs around him. Hermione had a book balanced on her knee, only vaguely listening to Ron ramble on about Quidditch. Remus gave a small smile as he caught her rolling her eyes.

"How have you been, Remus?" Harry watched his former Professor lean closer to him from his place on the couch, a tired smile brightening the scars along his face.

"I've been pretty decent, Harry. And yourself? I've heard about your wins as Captain this year. Well done." Remus gave an encouraging smile. "I'm just glad you don't gloat as much as James did back in the day. I've had enough of that for a lifetime."

Harry gave a chuckle. For several more minutes he had engaged in light conversation with Lupin, skimming over subjects that didn't bring Harry's worries to the surface. But soon enough he found himself confessing his troubles of Draco Malfoy's sneaking around. Rationally and sensibly, Remus reduced the matter to nothing but mischief. Harry knew different but he didn't press the matter as he noticed how tired Lupin had become. So he drifted away for awhile, retiring to his own thoughts about what Harry should do about Slughorn when he got back to school.

"Is there something else bothering you, Harry?" Lupin asked after a few moments of watching his young companion slip away from the present.

_Yes_, he desperately wanted to tell Lupin. But he couldn't. Dumbledore had asked to not to share his investigation on the Horcruxes with anyone but Ron and Hermione. He would honor Dumbledore's request but something in the back of Harry's brain told him that maybe Remus could help.

"Well," Harry started to lie, "I've been having a strange dream lately." It wasn't a true lie, it was stretching the truth. The dream had troubled him but the Horcruxes were his main concern. He just couldn't bring himself to shoot down Remus' offer to help.

"Tell me about it," Remus said lightly, crossing his legs and he leaned his aching back farther into the chair. As Harry gathered the words to say, Lupin thanked Hermione quietly as she slipped a cup of tea into his hand and slid into the seat beside him.

"I was standing in front of this table. It was dark all around me and I could hear creaks and groans as if the room was shifting around me," Harry recalled, squinting his eyes as he leaned forward on his knees. "I didn't want to approach the table. One light was shining down on the object, the only focus in the dream."

"What was the object, Harry?" Lupin asked, sincerely interested now that Harry seemed to have to concentrate really hard to conjure up the images again. Remus' blue eyes flickered to Harry's scar. Hermione's lips set into a straight line as she followed the professor's gaze.

"It was purple on the outside. Stained, with what looked like ink. Or blood. Immediately I thought 'Get away, don't open it.' But I couldn't back away." Harry looked up at Remus' lined face. "It was a book."

Hermione felt Lupin go rigid beside her. His back straightened and he was looking at Harry but not really seeing him. She could see his mind reeling, putting pieces together as Harry kept explaining what happened in the dream. Her annoyance flared slightly as she realized Harry had never bothered to tell her about this before. It could be a book to help in the finding of the Horcruxes.

"I could feel it pulsing beneath my fingers, like something was lurking in the pages." Harry rubbed the thumbs and index fingers of both hands together, mimicking the feel of paper beneath his fingertips. "There were more stains. Blood, ink, colored liquids; I couldn't make any sense of it."

"Were you searching for something?" Lupin asked gravely, his voice a whisper as he stared at Harry so intently it looked like he was trying to drill a hole and look inside his skull. His behavior was starting to make Hermione shift anxiously beside him. Remus spared her a worried glance.

"Yeah, yeah, I was looking for a certain page, a certain subject. And I was getting frantic, you know, like time was against me. I was flipping through the pages, faster and faster. I was giving myself-"

"Paper cuts," Remus said in unison with Harry, making the hair on the back of Hermione's neck stand up.

"Yes, paper cuts. And then-" Harry continued. But before he could spit the next word out, Remus interrupted.

"you stopped on a page. Evil reeked from the paper, invading your senses until you felt choked as you studied the picture of a baby in the corner. A perfect child that seemed right in all the wrong ways. You tried to read the instructions, the meaning but it was all in a foreign language."

The entire room had stopped breathing. They were staring at Remus with looks of disbelief and concern. For Harry or Remus' well being, they did not know. Molly and Arthur exchanged glances right before Lupin dived back into his story, the Christmas cheer snuffing out of the room like the dousing of a candle. The fire blazing was the only source of warmth as Harry's blood went cold.

"How do you know this?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes from the solemn blue of Remus' irises. He could feel color rising to his cheeks as his stomach churned uncomfortably, foreboding that something was approaching. Something big that made his nerves so uneasy that Harry was restraining himself from fidgeting.

Remus stared at Harry for a long time, the lines and scars on his face suddenly deep and gray as he refrained from answering. Arthur had opened his mouth to say something but Molly took his hand and gave it a squeeze, nodding to Remus for him to continue. But Lupin didn't want to say it, didn't want to throw out into the open that either something beyond explanation was occurring. Or that someone was intruding their minds.

"Because I dreamt it too."

* * *

"Molly, I've already told you everything that I know. I don't have one earthly idea that can explain this dream Harry and I shared."

Remus rubbed his tired face with his calloused hands, not wanting to see the distress on the mother's face. He knew what they were all thinking, what he was tossing around in his head. It was like a spider on the wall that kept jumping away when you tried to kill it.

They could not help but remember that Harry's dreams had saved Arthur's life last year. And no matter how hard he tried he could not squash this; that they had also ultimately led to Sirius' death.

There was a throb in his chest that he was thankfully able to ignore when he heard the sound of something crashing from upstairs. Molly, muttering under her breath, raced up the steps, no doubt going to the Twins' room to see what all the racket was about. That left Arthur and Remus alone.

"I know what you're thinking, Remus. But I don't think it's like that this time. What happened with Harry last year is ruled out because of one factor," Mr. Weasley said, cleaning his glasses on his shirt.

"That one factor being me."

"Voldermort would not let an Order member inside his mind. And it's even more unlikely because-"

"I'm a werewolf, right, but that doesn't explain why Harry and I shared the dream. Nor does it answer what this dream was specifically about." Remus massaged his temples. "We should tell Dumbledore about this."

Arthur gave a quick nod. "I'll send an owl right away."

Remus watched Mr. Weasley go fetch some ink and parchment to scrawl a synopsis of what had occurred. When the door swung shut behind him, Remus leaned back in his chair, his head pounding as he went over the same information over and over again. He couldn't get a single thing out of it, not even a sliver of what all this was meant to convey. So he sat there for a long time, watching the enchanted dishes wash themselves, pondering when Molly would come back down. He would very much like a cup of tea before he excused himself to bed.

That's when he found himself thinking about Sirius. He would've been there, sitting right beside him, balancing on the back legs of his chair. His best friend would be throwing whatever ideas crashed into his head, looking to Remus to either shoot them down or build them up. Brainstorming together had been a specialty of theirs. Since their Hogwarts days, it surprised him how much the pair could get done when they put their heads together. When you added Prongs into the mix there was hardly a puzzle left unsolved, a riddle too difficult to decipher.

Despite the falling sensation soaring through his stomach, Remus smiled at the thought of them. What would they be doing in heaven at this very moment? Playing Quidditch no doubt while Lily watched from the sidelines, only shouting encouragement time to time to feign that she was paying attention. She would be reading a book though, one from a grand library that was only accessible to the-

"_Harry, stop!"_

The shout yanked Remus out of his thoughts and spat him back out into the Weasley kitchen. Nearly sending the chair to the floor, Lupin shoved away from the table, drawing his wand. The yell had come from the front of house. He dodged around the furniture in the living room as a stampede of footsteps descended down the stairs, shouting to one another.

Remus couldn't get the door open fast enough as he clawed at the doorknob. Smoke slapped at his face, curled into his eyes until he felt the sting. He flew off the front steps of the Burrow, hurling himself to catch up with the Weasley's. He could only see the whipping of Ginny's hair as she jumped through the opening in the fire, no doubt running after Harry. As if on cue, the gap closed before Remus or Arthur could burst through. The flames licked his face and he nearly threw himself back, not wanting to burn his skin.

"Get back!" Remus shouted at Ron and Hermione who were prepared to fling themselves at the fire if it meant getting to Harry and Ginny. There was confusion all around him as he raised his wand, trying to tame the fires to allow another gate into the grasses around the Burrow. The Twins helped, flicking and thrusting their wands at the rising flames. It was like trying to bring a giant animal down.

And there it was, an opening.

"Kids, stay here with your mother!" cried Mr. Weasley as he set off beside Remus before the fire lashed out again. For he too had seen the black flying masses of the Death Eaters.

The grass was tall and the ground was damp from a recent rain. He shoes were sinking into the mud with each step but he willed his long body to keep moving. Harry and Ginny were out here with the enemy, prowling through the grass trying to find each other like Arthur and Remus were trying to find them.

"Ginny!" he heard Mr. Weasley calling yards away from Remus' east side. The sound of rustling grass and splashing mud was surrounding the area, sending Lupin's eyes in a whirl as he tried to register a face through this sea of the earth.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

That voice was unmistakably Harry's. He could hear Ginny's chiming after his, firing a defensive spell. They were together and firing at someone. Remus' found his feet moving in that direction, running to the sound of their voices. They were close, only a few feet away. Then a voice rang out, a chilling voice that sent Remus' teeth on edge and his heart into a painful rhythm of drumming.

"I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!"

With a burst of anger Remus heaved his body through an open circle where Harry and Ginny were back to back, wands out. They were sweating and adrenaline high as their eyes scanned the fields around them. He put his arm out to hold Ginny back, the other held out in front of Harry. His posture was like a cat's, ready to pounce at the next movement.

That's when a curse was sent flying past his ear. Harry ducked in response, throwing up his arm to wield a _Protego _shield. As a hex was whizzing through the air straight to Ginny, Arthur shot out of the tall stalks behind him and blew the spell away, standing in front of his daughter, ready to use his own body as a counterattack if he had to.

They could feel it. The danger in the air was so thick that Remus could smell it. His chest felt as if it were being pressed on, tightening as he realized there wasn't a sound other than their rapid breathing, their feet sloshing around in the mud beneath them, and the rustling of clothes as wands were rotating, waiting for the next curse, the next pair of luminous eyes amongst the jungle of grass.

But they never came. Like cannons, the Death Eaters shot into the sky in swirling black tunnels, laughing and taunting in the background of the crackling flames swallowing the sides of the Burrow. They could hear the sound of the Weasley sons trying to put out the fire and Molly crying out for her husband. Taking Ginny's hand and nearly dragging her along, he left Remus and Harry standing in the field, wet and tired.

"Remus, thanks for coming after me. I didn't want them to hurt Gin- Ow! What the bloody hell was that?" Harry shouted as he rubbed his hand against the back of his head, looking around for what had hit him. Remus was startled, looking around for what direction it had come from. Another Death Eater? He took a step towards Harry and he felt his foot sink down into the watery dirt. But most of all he felt his shoe contacting with a solid object.

He looked down and his heart nearly cracked a rib. Because there, right below him, was a stained purple covered book.


	11. Purging

**Author's note: **

**Hello, everyone! I would just like to say thanks for following Danica's story. I know I go through long periods without updating but it's always the lack of inspiration that kicks my butt. However, I've got the entire story mapped out. So I won't be leaving anyone hanging for long. Reviews would be greatly appreciated! Thank you again for all the support. **

**Love always, Rayne. **

* * *

Danica was bundled up in a large, engulfing coat that the Dark Lord insisted she wear when saying her goodbyes to Draco. It had snowed heavily the night before, leaving the grounds of the Malfoy Manor covered in blankets of white and the fires inside roaring at all hours. Only one path had been made by the Death Eaters to reach the house, their waterlogged boots still strewn by the door. Laughter and the clinking glasses of Firewhiskey could still be heard as the cousins trudged up the front lawn, Draco's luggage in tow.

Their breath was rising in mists before them as they stood before the black gate, Draco leaning against his standing trunk. A sweep of cold air brushed by them and Danica shivered, her nose already red from the icy weather. Draco reached up and unraveled his Slytherin scarf from around his neck, draping it over her thin shoulders.

"I wish there was a spell that would make you eat while I'm not here. Merlin knows no one else will bother shoving food down your throat like I do." He tried to sound harsh, making sure she caught the point that she needs to stop skipping so many meals. But he couldn't bring himself to use a tone stronger than that of a half-hearted warning.

She gave a quiet laugh, looking back at the Manor for a fleeting glance before returning her gaze to Draco's pale face. She thought she saw movement in one of the windows and the wisps of smoky black robes.

"This place is gonna be so empty without you, Draco," Danica said in a hushed tone. He nodded his agreement and took a look at his watch, the hour for him to head off to King's Cross Station getting nearer. He didn't want to leave either. Not with all the madmen running loose through the house at all hours of the night. And especially not with all the harm that Danica has been enduring. It made him sick to his stomach thinking about how he won't be there to clean her up after another beating from the Dark Lord.

A surge of hatred—one that he felt often—boiled in the center of his belly and crawled up to his throat, his temperature spiking. He looked at the bruise healing on the side of her face, reaching up two frosty fingers to stroke the yellowish skin. She closed her gray eyes, the ones not unlike his, and he knew she was thinking the same thing. For a long time Danica worried herself about keeping her cousin alive. Now, he was going to be the one staying up at night to wonder if she was truly okay. The end of the school year never seemed so far away.

"Be strong, okay? I'll be back before you know it." He flashed a smirk, making her lips twitch upward in what was could be taken as a smile. Her jaw still gave a cry of discomfort when she tried to do more than that.

"Draco, don't forget about your-"

"Mission, I know. I'm working on it." He ran an anxious hand through his platinum blonde hair and took one last look at his watch. "I need to get going."

She looked down at the snow covered ground before throwing her arms around him in a crushing hug. He responded by holding onto her tightly, as if trying to give some of his strength into her very skin. They stayed like that for a few long moments, relishing in the safe feeling of family—the one thing he never truly knew.

"Get off, Danica. You're going to ruin my designer robes with your snot." He gave a forced smile as he held her away at arm's length. She laughed, a beautiful sound to his ears compared to her screaming.

"Bye, Draco," she said, watching him bend to collect his things.

"Goodbye, Danica. I'll write soon."

With that he gave her one last brief glance and continued through the black gate, not looking back because he didn't want to see her face crumble. So she watched his retreating back until the last possible moment when he turned on the spot and Dissaparated.

His absence was like a siren in those next few seconds.

"Danica!"

The shout brought her back from Draco's departure. And instantly, her expression slipped into business mode, her eyes vacating and her mouth hardening into a line. She turned and shook the shaggy hair from her eyes and saw that Fenir was poking his head out of the door, his teeth nearly bared.

"What?" she asked harshly, restraining a growl from inside her throat. Her insides always ached when he was around, her natural instincts calling for a submission to an Alpha. But she would never bow to such a monstrosity.

"The Dark Lord wants to speak with you." His voice reminded her of rust, metallic and rough.

"Be a good lap dog and tell him I'll be up shortly," she retorted, her temper suddenly flaring at the very sight of him. He gave a menacing growl and slammed the door shut, on direct orders, like everyone else, to not touch her or disrespect her in any way. Because she has the authority to give out punishment.

Danica gave a longing look at the spot Draco had just vanished from and gave a heavy sigh.

This was going to be a very long couple of months.

* * *

"Harry, don't touch it!" Hermione hissed when his fingers outstretched for the top cover of the book thrown at his head only minutes before. He was reminded briefly about a certain ghost lounging in a toilet.

"Hermione, I don't think it's going to explode anytime soon," he muttered, not really looking at her. Remus and Harry's dream was right. The pages seemed to reek of evil, of foul Dark Magic that made Mrs. Weasley fret about having it in her kitchen.

Everyone crowded around the table to get a look at it. Fred was in the process of poking it with a fork to see if it did anything. Lupin was pacing back and forth in a corner of the room, rubbing his hand along his jaw as he thought. Arthur sent another urgent message to Dumbledore and he Floo'd back to say that he would be arriving soon.

"Well, it's not like we can read it, mate. I've never seen that language before in my life," said Ron, eyeing the closeness of Hermione to the wretched thing. Suddenly Lupin took the seat beside Hermione and stared at the book for so long one might think he was trying to open it up with his mind.

"We're not going to get anything done if we just stand around looking at it," said Harry as he watched all eyes trail along the cover.

"You're right, Harry. Hermione, please move back." Lupin watched as she retreated to stand beside Harry, a circle forming around Remus and the lone book on the table, the blood stains more prominent under the bright light of the ceiling.

He drew his wand out and pointed it at the book. For a moment the entire room stopped breathing as he swung his wand to the right in a wave, making gently open in an arc. Everyone had to keep themselves from cringing away when the pages lay there, exposed. But nothing happened. No curses or hexes flew out, no boggarts. It remained still as if holding its very own breath.

"I was rather hoping it would explode," Fred said, disappointment clear on the downward tug of his lips.

At that moment they heard the familiar sound of Apparation. Arthur hurried to open the door to greet Dumbledore, his deep purple robes rustling against the threshold. His eyes twinkled at Harry for only a second, the piercing blue deep in thought, before turning to Lupin who remained where he was, wand still pointing at the object of his dream.

"I'll take it from here, Remus."

Lupin lowered his wand and watched as Dumbledore, with a sweep of his robes, sat down at the table. His long fingers reached for the book and pulled it closer, half moon spectacles sinking lower on his crooked nose so he could read the title. Hermione gave him a puzzled look.

"Sir, I've never seen a language like that before. Can you read it?" she asked, watching Lupin as he resumed his pacing of the kitchen floor.

"I speak fluent Southern Athabaskan," he replied with the sliver of a smile.

"He speaks Azkaban," George whispered to his twin.

"No, Mr. Weasley. Athabaskan. It's an old Native American language, belonging to the Apaches." Everyone stood there, not quite sure how to respond to that.

"What does it say, Albus?" Molly's quiet voice said from beside her husband. She was clutching at his sleeve absently. Dumbledore cleared his throat and said,

"The Vulture's Spellbook."

Hermione felt a shiver slide down her spine. And she didn't know whether it was just her but at that moment, the sound of hungry birds echoed inside her head, menacing and unforgiving.

"Harry, if you please." Dumbledore motioned Harry forward. He took tentative steps, preparing himself for the horrors inside those pages that he only saw in his dreams. His muscles were tight, fingers brushing against his wand. "Find the page, Harry."

He wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to go on feeling alone. Because even now, making no physical contact, Harry could feel the tug of what he sought coming from somewhere in the middle. It was lingering, waiting to be discovered. Like a rattlesnake that sensed its prey had ignored its warning. It was waiting to strike.

Harry flipped open the cover. He could feel Lupin's eyes raking the front page, searching for what had invaded their dreams. Trying not to look too long, or feel the stains across the paper, Harry skimmed his fingers along the sections quickly. He only gave himself enough time to look in the corner for the picture that seemed burned into his memory. Just thinking about it sent his stomach in a twist.

"Farther ahead," encouraged Remus when Harry stopped at a spell that seemed to sever all the limbs from a person's body. They would be awake for it.

Harry nodded and continued, the thick middle of the book approaching faster. The tug was there, stronger, pulling Harry's hands forward until he noticed that he wasn't commanding them to move. Dumbledore must have noticed too because he leaned in, his warm breath stirring the hair on his student's arm. Remus came and sat beside Harry, watching and waiting. He could feel it too.

"There! Stop!" Remus exclaimed, his hand catching the page Harry was about to flip. As if being released from bonds, Harry's pulled back his hands. He rubbed his wrists as if he had just been shackled. Getting up, he went over to the sink and washed his hands. The stench of Dark Magic was covering his skin.

Dumbledore slid the book closer to him. The entire room leaned toward the silver haired man as if he had become gravity itself in the last few moments. Hermione was peeking over Remus' shoulder, her eyes seeing for the first time what he had tried to block out. The perfect baby seemed to be staring at Hermione with an evil look in its eyes. She exhaled.

Several long moments passed as Dumbledore read through the chosen page. Harry watched from his spot at the sink, leaning his back against it. Every second that passed seemed to make the piercing blue of Dumbledore's eyes grow brighter. They soon looked like two orbs of icy blue flames. Dread was filling the air, unknown tension coiling inside the kitchen until it made Mrs. Weasley plop down into a chair, Arthur's hand tightly in held in hers.

Just as Remus was about to ask what it said, aware of the awful taste in his mouth that the silence left, Dumbledore looked up and met the man's gaze. Lupin could no longer find any words. His feet were cemented to the ground and the sharp beating of his heart made his chest hurt. Something lingered in Dumbledore's face, something that made his gut clench and his instincts scream.

The faintest hint of fear was written in Dumbledore's eyes.

"It all makes sense, Remus…" he whispered, the tone of a genius discovery staining his voice.

"What does?" When Albus did not answer and instead looked back down at the page he asked again, "What makes sense?"

"Molly, please tell the children to go upstairs."

With flustering hands and a sharp whip of her tongue when they began to protest, Mrs. Weasley herded the young wizards out the door. George and Fred remained since they no longer qualified as children.

"Please, boys. You will know soon enough." That was all that Dumbledore said. But it was enough to send the twins away, their heads bowed and voices grumbling. With the flick of his wand the door locked and silenced the room from the outside. Remus still hadn't taken his eyes off of Dumbledore's face.

"Do you see that symbol at the bottom of the page?" he asked. Remus looked and nodded, a ripple of understanding passing through him.

"The Dark Mark. So we know that this has something to do with Voldemort."

Dumbledore watched Remus for a long time, making him shift a little in his chair. He looked like he was weighing his options, his disadvantages and advantages at what he was going to say next. Remus' heart gave another painful pump.

"It has everything to do with Voldemort."

"Well, that's a given because after all, this is his war-"

"He's going to make an heir, Remus. He's going to raise the next Prime Minister of his new world order."

The silence that followed could make one believe that world had stopped moving, that all sound had turned off like a light switch. Because they all stared at Dumbledore, their mouths open with confusion so strong it stumped their voices into stillness.

"Are you sure? Albus, this is…unlike Voldemort. He doesn't want to share power, he doesn't want…_a family_. That goes against everything we know about him, everything that has made him the prevailing leader we know him to be. It's an outrage that-" Lupin was on a roll, the words rampaging from his mouth like a stampede of denial. He couldn't stop himself. It was wrong, all wrong. Dumbledore had to be mistaken.

"I think you already know the reason why this worries me so much." His blue eyes twinkled. Suddenly Remus understood why Dumbledore had been watching him earlier. He wasn't studying him. He was testing the waters, figuring out how long it would take before Remus put the pieces together.

It was for this reason that Lupin tried to prove Dumbledore was wrong. Because he did know. And the thought sent bile up the back of his throat.

" Danica is going to provide that heir."

Remus blinked four times. He excused himself, careful not to run into Mrs. Weasley who looked like she was about to faint. Before Albus could even call him back Remus Apparated to the tall hillside looking down at the Burrow. Only the blinking lights of the kitchen and the kid's room gave Remus the knowledge that it was still there, waiting for him to calmly walk in to sit down and discuss the matter at hand.

But right now he tilted his head back and yelled into the night air, hollered until his throat burned and his stomach pushed the remains of his meal up his esophagus. Remus doubled over, hands on his knees, and vomited. His stomach was cleaned out in a matter of moments.

If only something as simple as retching would purge his mind of Dumbledore's words.


	12. Caged Animals

Tears welled up in Molly Weasley's eyes as she sat her kitchen table, the echo of Remus' outburst vibrating beneath the Burrow's damp grass. She wanted to check on him, bring him back into the warm. It had been an extremely long day that only a fresh cup of tea could justify. But her tired bones didn't move her from her seat beside her husband who was rubbing his eyes. She could see his thoughts pulsing at his temples.

"He wants an heir to be the face of the Wizarding World, of his reformed 'community'?" Arthur heaved a great sigh, leaning back in his chair. "It just makes little sense."

Dumbledore shook his head, his train of thought still plowing through the tracks of his brilliant mind. "Think about the Muggle hierarchy, Arthur. They have a king and a queen but their…oh dear, I forgot the name…parliament! Their parliament does the weight carrying, all the heavy labor. Voldemort doesn't want to worry himself with writing and editing laws, interrogating, or the cells of Azkaban that are bound to be full of revolutionaries like us. He believes himself to be above all that."

"So he'll be the king but his heir will be the head of this pattiment-"

"Parliament, dear." Molly finally regained the use of her legs and summoned a clean kettle.

"Right, like the Ministry!"Mr. Weasley's eyes grew as bright as his flaming hair, leaning across the table towards Dumbledore. He was on to it. "He needs someone who won't try and knock him off of his throne. They wouldn't know any better!"

Dumbledore stroked his silver beard, the lines in his usually unaging face suddenly deeper and more profound. Mrs. Weasley set down cups of tea for the two men. Albus put his nose close to the brim and gave a long, thoughtful inhale. He spoke with his eyes closed as he said,

"He's preparing for a long reign…he's readying himself to be a god."

"And Danica? What part does she play in all this?"

Remus had stood in the doorway, catching the very last snippets of the conversation. His cheeks looked flushed and his hair a little grayer than usual. With his arms crossed and his shoulder leaning against the frame he looked at Dumbledore closely, watching as the flaming blue eyes opened to meet his harsh gaze.

Molly fussed over him, nearly pushing a cup into his hand as soon as he sat down. However, he wasn't sure if he could stomach anything quite yet.

"I was waiting for your return," Dumbledore said in a matter-of-fact tone. Remus made an embarrassed sound in the back of his throat, pretending to take a sip of his tea before pushing it away. "I didn't have the chance to explain what the significance of the Vulture Spell book was."

Remus eyed the bulge in the breast pocket of Dumbledore's robes. How he could stand that vile thing being so close to his heart, Lupin did not know. But the pages were still calling him, whispering in his ear like a forgotten thought that needed remembering, like the cold brush of air against his skin.

He shuddered.

"The page that Remus and our Harry dreamed was in fact instructions," Dumbledore started, suddenly cut off by a disturbed Mrs. Weasley.

"Instructions for what?" She wiped her hands nervously on her apron. Remus noticed it was the one that Danica gave her last Christmas. The one where she told him that she hated him. Lupin's chest gave a sudden ache.

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, chewing over his words as to make this knowledge come out in a manner that wasn't alarming. But he couldn't find a way to soften the impact. So he took a deep breath and dived right in, looking Remus straight in the eye. If anyone had the right to know, it was this man.

"Instructions on how to make the perfect child."

"There's only one way to make a baby, Albus. I have 7, I should know!" Color was rising in Molly's cheeks. It was part out of disgust for this. She wanted that _thing _out of her house. But there was another reason, one that made her clutch the hem of her apron in a sudden anger.

Dumbledore nodded, raising his hand to signal that he understood. A wave of calmness washed over Mrs. Weasley as he did so.

"Instructions on how to make a perfect child that would act as a perfect _tool. _Dark Apache wizards many generations ago used this to make the best medium to the gods. To make leaders that ruled on cruelty and savagery. The notes along the margins declare as much."

Remus knew this to be right. From memory alone he remembered that those 'notes' were written in blood.

"They didn't actually go through with it, did they?" Arthur said, his stomach churning at the thought of a blood thirsty dictator riding the plains of North America, wiping out anything in sight.

"No. They were caught and killed long before the child was able to reach the age of power. The remaining tribes of today view this event with much shame. They have always been a strong and valued group of magical folk. We do not hold a couple of rotten wizards against them."

Arthur nodded, the image he had earlier still thundering around in his mind. He went to stand closer to Molly. Remus, growing sicker by the moment, pushed his hair back. He found the corners of his forehead damp with anxious perspiration.

"How Voldemort got a hold of this spell book, I do not know. But he found exactly what we wanted." He swiveled his eyes to each face in the room, a spark in his eye that made Remus' temperature spike. "He found it long ago, actually."

"Long ago? Surely this information is new if Voldemort is only planning to use it now for the first time." Remus' pulse was hammering against the vein in his throat. It was uncomfortable. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, opening the first button. It had grown too warm in the kitchen.

Dumbledore didn't want to answer. He could see Lupin standing on the edge, ready to fall at any moment. He didn't want to do that to him. Or Molly either because she looked about ready to have an anxiety attack. But it needed to be done. The truth needed to be said. So Albus took a deep breath.

"It's not new. Because Danica was the first time."

* * *

"Oh, my dear!" exclaimed Voldemort in his oily voice, getting up to glide over to Danica who had just come in from the snow, "you look flushed." He put his long fingers on either side of her face. She tried with all her might to not flinch away. His touch was as cold as fresh ice.

"I was just saying good-bye to Draco," she said quietly, using the excuse of unwrapping her cousin's silver and green scarf to get him to stop touching her. The Dark Lord noticed it, his lips twisting into a slick smirk.

"Such a shame you were in that horrid Gryffindor house."

Danica regarded this with a simple nod, handing the house elf her coat after Voldemort snapped his fingers for her to be summoned. The young witch walked over to the window, desperate for some distance between her and those slit pupils. She looked around to ask the elf for some tea. But she already disappeared. Danica tried not to panic because it was then that she realized that she and the Dark Lord were completely alone. Dread coiled up her stomach.

"Fenir said you wanted to speak with me." The sooner he finished, the quicker she could get out of there. She could feel his eyes looking at her, probing the soft spots that he could strike next. Her fingers were already itching towards her wand. As if she would actually use it against him.

"Yes, there's actually someone I want you to meet." She could hear the Dark Lord sink into his armchair from somewhere behind her. Wait, where was Nagini?

"Really?" Danica asked, trying to show as little interest as possible. It was best not to encourage him. So she continued to stare out the window, watching the white peacocks strut and blend into the snowy lawn.

"I think you two will get along…quite well. Nagini?" Hissing filled the air and she knew he was summoning his pet. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She had always been uncomfortable around snakes. Especially _that one. _

The double doors swung open and a cadence of footsteps echoed in the large sitting room, reflecting how empty it was even though expensive decors were scattered everywhere. Where the Dark Lord couldn't see, Danica clutched her black and white wand. One could never be too careful.

When she could hear the slithering of Nagini's scaly skin against the floor grow closer, Danica took a calming breath and turned around.

_Let's get this over with. _

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Because there, standing no more than five feet from her, was the most striking wizard she had ever seen in her life. Danica should've been intrigued. Should've given a charming smile, _something _to please this man. Any ordinary woman would do so.

But she could only look upon him with a vacant expression, fear and disbelief lurking beneath the fortress of her eyes.

"Danica, I'd like you to meet Alexander Rixon." The Dark Lord gave a nasty smile. She knew what he was.

"He's been chosen to be your fiancé."

* * *

Remus shook his head furiously. Dumbledore was wrong. He was mistaken. There had to be another child but not Danica. Not _his _Danica.

He wanted to be sick again.

"How this particular magic works is that over the course of pregnancy the witch will be given one potion per month. Each is prepared to the liking of the wizard who wanted the heir. In this case, Voldemort. Strong and powerful magic will seep into the brew, giving its content the ability to adapt to whatever the wizard wants to see in his heir."

"Dumbledore, it can't be Danica. We know her, I raised her! She isn't anything that the Dark Lord would want in…in his own child."

"Let me finish." Albus said calmly, his expression still kind as he explained these monstrosities. "So once every month, Voldemort prepared the potion for-"

"Bellatrix." Arthur's voice reduced to a hoarse whisper.

"Right, Mrs. Lestrange. He would adjust the potion to his liking so that, for example, month three could contain unbreakable strength, impeccable cunning, limitless magical ability, anything the Dark Lord wanted to see."

"But she's not _anything _like Voldemort. Or her parents! Albus, there has to be a mistake-"

"Remus," Dumbledore stopped Lupin right in his tracks, "please. Let me finish the story." The now harassed looking man sunk back into his chair, fingers at his throbbing temples.

"Alright."

"Nine months rolled around and Bellatrix didn't skip one potion. A powerful ruler, cruel and nearly invincible, was developing inside her, ready to be born into near royalty." Dumbledore laced together his hands, resting them against his chin but looking right at Lupin who looked like he was going to be sick again.

"The child was born, as normal as any other baby because at birth there was one last potion to be taken. It would be the catalyst to activate all the dormant qualities buried deep in the bones and genetics of the potential ruler. It had to be made fresh or it wouldn't work. It took three days to prepare."

"She didn't get a chance to take it…" Molly whispered, her eyes brimming with what looked like tears.

"Voldemort had been defeated the night Danica was supposed to take that potion."

Lupin understood. All the questions, all the doubts and conspiracies about how he came across Danica finally came to the light. The fog of her past finally cleared up and he could see for the first time. His heart was racing and his adrenaline pumping as he leaned forward in his chair, looking like a man that had just been rescued from drowning.

"That's why they abandoned her. They no longer had any use for Danica because the Dark Lord was gone. Bellatrix only agreed to birth the child because it would serve her master. She left her in that alley before she got locked up in Azkaban, covering up Voldemort's tracks!" Remus was almost panting, the excitement and understanding crashing through his body in waves. She wasn't a monster! Danica wasn't a monster!

"Precisely. She took only what could be gained from being altered like that. Her magical ability, intelligence, strength. You know this Remus; she developed differently from other Wizard children."

"But she's going to repeat what her mother failed to do…"Arthur said, looking just as old and troubled as Remus was. The spark inside of Lupin died down to a faint sputter. He was right. She was no monster. But she would bring one into the world.

"Voldemort…he won't, um, he won't…be the father right?" Remus could barely choke out the words. The thought of him doing so made the wolf within snarl with such hatred that he had to grip the edge of the table to control himself. Molly put her hand over her heart.

"No. He'll choose someone to do that." Dumbledore lowered his voice to a grave whisper, watching as Remus dug his fingernails into the wood of the table. "If Danica becomes pregnant before Harry can defeat the Dark Lord…we can't take chances, Remus."

Lupin didn't want to listen. Like a defiant child he wanted to cover his ears and drown the sound of Dumbledore's voice out. The very thought nearly sent his body into spasms of sobs. But he held it together, for the sake of Molly who had reached over and grasped his shaking hands. He was trembling, head to foot, praying to God once again. He begged Him, and Sirius, James & Lily, for there to be another way.

"Harry will have to kill Danica."

Several things happened at once.

Remus fainted just as Tonks opened the door. She saw Molly hovering over his slumped body and went into an angry rampage of questions, digging for her wand in the pocket of her robes. Molly started crying, silently, as she brought Remus around to consciousness. He tried to leave, desperately commanded his legs to stand so he could get out of that place. He looked like a caged animal.

Then Fred was shouting, hollering over all the noise that they couldn't do that. He was standing in the doorway that Tonks had just come through, no doubt having met her outside when he saw her trudging up to the door. The look in his eyes was pure anger, despair over what he just heard. He was arguing with his father, continuously pointing at Dumbledore, all the laughter and mischief gone from his young face.

And then there was Harry who had entered the kitchen to ask if he could speak with Dumbledore privately. He also heard what the headmaster had to say. His body looked petrified, his green eyes staring at Albus with a look that made the old man's heart ache. _Take it back_, he silently pleaded, his mouth in the form of the first T.

Dumbledore wished he could. But as he said, if Danica was with child before the Dark Lord was defeated, she would have to die.

Because the Dark Lord won't make the same mistakes again.


	13. Have a Nice Day

"My Lord, you didn't tell me she would be this beautiful." The young man swaggered over and crossed the remaining distance between him and his future bride, taking her hand. With a smile that could've won over the Hogwarts girls in a heartbeat, Alexander brought her knuckles to his lips and planted a soft kiss there.

Danica remained absolutely still, not taking her eyes from his.

Alexander Rixon had a towering height of 6'3. His dark, nearly black hair skimmed the tops of his broad shoulders while several strands were constantly pushed back from his face. He had hazel eyes, the golden flecks in his irises glinted in a way that made you assume that he wasn't saying entirely what he wanted to. Sharp cheekbones gave him a severe looking face that was striking at the same time. When he smiled, he did a lopsided smirk that spoke of slyness.

"A bit shy, isn't she?" Alexander gave a chuckle, running his fingers over his prominent jaw line as Danica continued to stare him down. He took a liking to those startling gray eyes.

"No, she's just forgotten her manners," the Dark Lord hissed, shooting cold daggers at Danica when her glance slid to her master.

She was not in the mood for another beating.

"Danica," she said, using her signature dazzling smile, "Danica Lorenzo." If Alexander wanted to fool her with slick charm, she could do the same.

With a lazy hand she threw her long dark hair over her shoulder, tilting her head to give Alexander a pleasant smile. She watched as his eyes hungrily raked over her thin body, down to her small feet in sleek black boots. Danica gracefully walked over to the nearest chair, crossing her legs once seated, still not taking her eyes off of Alexander.

"From Durmstrang, I presume?" she asked, batting her naturally curled eyelashes at him. Alexander bowed to the Dark Lord and waved his hand, offering him the chair next to Danica. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"I'm afraid I have other business to attend to." Voldemort gave Danica a meaningful look that made her skin crawl before he gestured to his snake, "Come, Nagini."

With a _POP,_ he vanished. Danica could breathe again.

"Yes, Durmstrang. Just graduated." Alexander took the seat he just offered to the Dark Lord, throwing a lazy arm over the back of it. Arrogance was apparent on his sly grin.

"Pureblood, I reckon. Voldemort wouldn't let anything less into his inner circle." She nodded to his left arm, a strip of skin showing where his black button up sleeve didn't cover. It was red, freshly irritated with the Dark Mark.

"You don't miss a thing, do you?" Alexander gave another careless chuckle, running a hand through his long hair.

"No, I don't. I also know that you've kept your wand in the sleeve of your shirt this whole time for easy access. Threatened by me, Rixon?" Alexander's smirk faltered for a second.

"Maybe I'm just cautious. They told me you were a feisty one." He licked his lips and annoyance flared up inside of Danica. She held back the urge to bare her teeth.

"Don't give me cheek. You best know your place," Danica snapped.

"Or what? You'll put me there?" Alexander leaned forward, an amused expression on his face. His eyes slithered down her body once again. "I would love that."

"You're a pig." She stood, grabbing her jacket from the House Elf who had appeared in the corner when the Dark Lord left. "You may have the rest of the Death Eaters fooled with your charm. But I see right through you." Danica turned on her heels and marched to the doors, her anger boiling at the surface.

Her hand barely brushed the surface of the doorknob when something wrapped around her wrist and yanked her back. She gave a shriek of disbelief, her hair whipping around her angrily as her shoulder joints suddenly felt as if they were on fire. Danica dropped her jacket, fumbling for her wand but he wrenched her towards him again.

She stumbled into his chest, hearing her wand clatter to the floor. He grabbed onto her other wrist when she lashed out and slapped him, her nails dragging across his cheek. Alexander gave a grunt and drove her back against the door, holding both her hands above her. He pressed onto her, making her immobile as she struggled against his weight.

"Will you stop? You aren't going anywhere. Your wand is on the floor and I've got you pinned. So just stop thrashing," he said gruffly. He hated to admit it but getting her here was harder than he thought.

Danica growled, an inhuman sound seething from behind her teeth as she looked up at him, eyes storming in rage.

"Yes, he told me about that. You're contaminated. But it's nothing I can't overlook." He gave another sly smirk.

His reward was Danica spitting in his face.

Alexander had enough. He lifted his weight off of her and brought her off the door a few inches before slamming her back, the wood rattling behind her. Switching both her wrists to one hand, he brought up his free fingers and grabbed her face like a parent would with a misbehaving child.

"You're going to listen to me whether you like it or not, Danica. We're engaged. Do you understand what that means? You belong to me and I belong to you, end of story."

Danica made an attempt to talk but he shook his head, tightening his grip on her pinned hands. She narrowed her eyes to wolf like proportions.

"We can't get out of it. And you know that, too, so stop pretending that you're clueless. We're stuck with each other. I don't give a damn if you see through my charm. I don't give a damn if you can't stand the very sight of me. We have a," he made a disgusted face, "duty that we have to fulfill."

"If we refuse, they will kill us both. And you know it."

Danica stopped fighting. She calmed down enough to nod. Because no matter how much she wanted to deny it, wanted to believe that the Dark Lord valued her too much, she couldn't. He would murder her and find some other poor girl to do her job.

Danica wouldn't allow that.

"I'm going to let go of you now. But if you attack me, I'll stun you. Understood?" Alexander asked, slightly out of breath. He waited for her curt nod and slowly released her wrists. And just as slow, he removed his weight and took a few steps back. Her hand was already reaching for the doorknob.

"I understand," Danica said.

Then she raised his wand.

Before he could dive out of the way, a jet of light hurled toward him and hit him square in the chest. He toppled over, eyes wide in disbelief. _That cunning little sphinx. _

She walked over to him, rubbing the red imprints of his hand on her skin. Her lips smiled dangerously and she threw his wand down beside his head.

"Have a nice day."

She turned on her heels, retrieved her jacket and wand, and slammed the door behind her, leaving Alexander Rixon stunned in the middle of the floor.

* * *

Remus Lupin didn't wake up until late afternoon the next day. It was extremely late when he left the Burrow, unable to take another second under that roof. He loved the Weasley's very much. But he couldn't take Dumbledore's words. Leaving Tonks, shocked and a little hurt, in the front lawn Remus Dissaparated home at once.

As soon as he got inside the quiet privacy of his own house, Lupin lost it. He knocked over the pile of books on the dining room table and sent a chair flying across the room. Swiping his arm roughly across the table's surface, he scattered his Order papers, not caring that he spent hours filling them out and putting them in order. With his wand he raised the dirty glasses from the sink and crashed them into the floor. With a very human howl he opened his arms wide and all the contents of the drawers and cabinets flew out, clattering to the ground and onto the countertops

He slunk into the living room, knocking his reading lamp to the floor. His radio was not spared either. It lay in pieces, purple smoke rising from the broken parts. For a few moments he paced before the couch, mumbling to himself as he nearly strangled himself trying to take off his jacket. He flung it onto the couch and continued upstairs, unable to look at the pictures lining the walls. The words were circling around in his head, buzzing like irritated flies.

_Harry will have to kill Danica. _

This had happened once before. Remus had lost his control like this one night many years ago. It was with a stabbing pain in the center of his chest that he remembered it was the night James and Lily died. He had trashed the place to the point of chaos. Not only had he lost his two of his best friends but he believed Sirius had betrayed them.

His body remembered the pain. Remus sank onto his bed and put his face in his hands, trying to stop the trembling. After all this time his body still knew what it felt like to be racked with loss. It ripped through the patch he had worked so long to make. His head throbbed with the effort of holding back tears as he remembered how he cried when he thought of never seeing Lily's face or James' smile. Not only was the man suffering from grief but so was his wolf. It lost its companion when Prongs died.

"Stop it," he told himself. "Just stop. They aren't coming back, Remus. Stop thinking about it." He rubbed his tired eyes and sank into bed, pulling the covers over him until he retired to a dreamless sleep.

But sitting there at his kitchen table the next day, mess still surrounding him, Remus felt empty. He stared and stared at the place where there was a chunk missing from the table. Danica had done that. Hacked away a piece with magic she couldn't control just yet. She laughed and laughed like it was the funniest thing she had ever seen in her 4 year old life.

He closed his eyes and tried to put a stopper in all the memories of her bubbling to the surface. He didn't want to think about her. He didn't want to think about her having a child at 17. He didn't want to think about some monster fathering a monster child.

And he especially didn't want to think about her dying beneath the stare of Harry Potter's wand.

Just then the front door swung open and clicked softly shut. Cautious footsteps echoed through the hollow house, no doubt taking in the mess he had made. The sound of crunching glass beneath a boot shattered the pained silence.

_Tonks. _

He cared for the girl, he really did. But right now he wanted to be alone. He was still trying to stitch himself back together. Remus Lupin did not lose control like he did last night. Tonks shouldn't have to see the mess he created.

Quickly grabbing the _Prophet _from the corner of the table, Remus opened it up and ran his eyes over the words. He wanted to be discovered doing something normal. She was probably expecting a grown man huddled in the corner in the fetal position. _God, I'm so pathetic. _

He heard her enter the kitchen and he changed the page of the paper, folding it over to pretend to he was interested in a particular article.

"Excuse the mess, I meant to clean it up before you showed up today. If you're hungry I can make a quick breakfast." He tried to keep his voice steady. Why did she have to come so soon? He felt exposed here in the midst of his raging mess.

He stood up, his back to her because his cheeks were still a bit pink from knowing she was probably relieved that he wasn't curled up in that ball.

"Rem?"

Remus J. Lupin stopped dead in his tracks. His spine straightened and his breath hitched in his throat. His heart was pounding painfully against his ribs and adrenaline shot through him so fast he got light headed.

That wasn't Tonks.

Slowly he turned around, his feet nearly dragging across the floor. It could be an honest mistake. Maybe Tonks' voice changed with her anxiousness. That's possible. And she had heard his nickname many times before; maybe she was using it to comfort him. You know, being cautious. She didn't want to cause him anymore distress. That much grief has to be bad for the health.

Remus was lying to himself.

Because there, standing in the entrance to his kitchen, was Danica.

He had forgotten just how beautiful she really was.


	14. The Wilting Lilac

She counted the rise and falls of his chest.

He numbered the sweeps of her lashes with each blink.

Her dreams had teased her with his half remembered scent. The aroma of coffee and freshly watered plants, native to his skin, was curling back into her senses. She tried to breathe in as much as she could, take in all that the air could give her. The kitchen window was open too, the land suddenly releasing its perfume like a welcome for a soldier returning from war.

Remus gripped the back of his chair, the scars along his hand turning white against his skin. He looked like he had seen a ghost. His guess wasn't too far off as he took in the closed look on her face, cheeks sunken in, and the color of her lips long gone. Her jacket hung off her shoulders in pitiful folds. And even from beneath her skin her bones assumed a fragile stature that one good kick could turn to dust.

Everything about her seemed gray and wilting. Like a purple lilac left in the bitter cold to die.

"Danica," he whispered, startled at the sound of his own voice. He hadn't meant to speak but his lungs needed to get her name out because it was pulsing through his system, a familiar fire building inside him. Its presence was like a Butterbeer so strong it could thaw your mind.

He started seeing her clearly. The edges and corners around her began to focus, pull him out of his shock until reality shook him from his comatose and said what he wanted to hear.

She was really standing only a few feet from him.

The fire within was thriving, vibrating through every pore until his knees started to quiver beneath him. Words were climbing up his throat, trying to escape through his dry lips as he stared at the girl he had lost. His breath hitched on the way out from his chest and he longed to clutch at his erratic heart.

That feeling of being found, that relief was trembling so badly through his aging body that he could almost hear his ribs rattle.

"You've come home."

The effect of his words was much more than he bargained for. He expected her to deny it, say that she wasn't staying for long. He feared a piece of that Death Eater inside would come out and show its ugly face to him. But she came alive at the sound of his voice.

Her eyes stormed, churned in a ripping sea that melted the cold look from her face. A door had been opened and she was fighting her way through the threshold, first as the little girl running through the walls of this house. Then as his best friend, playing a battered game of wizard's chess by the fire. She seemed to remember that he was there, waiting for her to respond. She took a step forward, leaving her wand on the countertop, and her face took on the light of someone who had just been reunited with something lost.

She looked so much older.

"Remus," she muttered, hands out in front of her as she tried to explain what words couldn't. She was too busy looking at him, hungrily engraving his image in her mind. "I don't –"

He crossed the distance between them before she could stammer another syllable. Surprised she nearly took a step back, suddenly reaching for her wand because something close to anger had appeared in his face. He saw the flicker of motion from the corner of his eye and took a hold of her wrists to stop her.

She nearly gasped at the feel of his calloused hands against her skin. His clasp was gentle, cautious of stepping over a line that would cause her to flee. He could feel her pulse quickening beneath his fingers as she stared up at him, those gray eyes suddenly more beautiful in that moment than they ever been. Memories of his touch couldn't compare to the jolts of warmth travelling up the underside of her wrist where his thumb was tracing circles.

A sorrowful kind of silence fell over them. His fingers moved up along her arms, pausing over the Dark Mark. She closed her eyes in shame and his palms passed her elbows. He could feel her shaking, shuffling her feet almost involuntarily, drawn to him like a magnet. His thumb traced the healing scar on the side of her neck tenderly, watching as her face relaxed.

It was when his hands came to rest on either side of her face, gentle and soothing, did he speak again. She could feel the warm brush of his breath against her forehead and the space between them charged with anticipation.

"Look at me."

She opened her eyes and watched his smile break the barrier of grief around them. A sob was rattling through her lungs and she bit her lip, forcing it back as the tears began to spill over his fingers. Her hands found his sides and she pulled him to her, desperate for what she used to have here in this house. The scars along his face were a comfort for she knew them as well as she knew her own. Danica glanced up at his thick hair, noticing there were more gray strands than there used to be.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, leaning her forehead against his. "I'm so sorry." Her voice broke and she shut her eyes tightly, clutching at his shirt as if her life depended on it.

He shook his head and made her look at him again, their breath mingling together in a dance of pleasurable misery. The kind where you're glad you're together even though the separation had torn you apart. So Remus tilted Danica's head up, his fingers beneath her chin.

Before her betrayal, he would've walked away from this the moment he saw it coming. It was too risky, too scandalous for him to bear. But right now, knowing there might not be another chance like this, he didn't care. She was marked, a walking target. If he ever saw her after this he knew it would be either on the battlefield or in the ground, still as death.

He was not willing to take that chance.

So he leaned in farther, eyes closed and heart hammering. She stood on her toes, stomach twisting in somersaults as he brushed the hair back from her face. He was crossing the distance at an agonizingly slow pace but she didn't rush him. She knew just as well as he did that this might be their last shot. Their only shot.

His lips grazed over hers, as light as possible, and it felt like summer was radiating from her very pores. A contented sigh slipped from Remus' mouth and onto hers, a sense of completion washing over him like no other.

But it didn't last for long.

A screeching sound echoed through the house. It shattered all the warm feelings and swapped them for the cold that seemed to poison her bones. They were no longer alone.

"_STUPEFY!" _

Remus' arm lashed out and grabbed Danica's wand from the counter just in time. His arm gave a lurch and the spell rebounded, a protective shield shimmering against her back. It all happened so fast that Lupin didn't bother to see who cast the spell but he pushed Danica behind him, her wand ready in his hand. His eyes focused once again and what he saw ripped all the joy from him so viciously Danica grabbed his free wrist to steady to him.

Tonks was standing there, her hair a painfully bright red that seemed to flicker and smolder like real fire. Her pretty face was twisted into rage and her chest was heaving, eyes glowing with a malicious glint directed to Danica who bared her teeth in a warning.

"What're you doing here, Tonks?" growled Danica, opening her hand behind her back where no one could see her summon Remus' wand.

"Me? What are _you _doing here, you bloody traitor!" Tonks spat.

"Dora, please. We can all sit down and talk about this ca–"

"Do not say calmly! You have a Death Eater in your house! Don't think I didn't see you," she screamed, hand shaking as she continued to aim her wand at Danica, "Don't think I didn't see what you were doing instead of following orders!"

"This is neither the time nor place to be discussing Order business." His voice raised a little, drowning out Danica's attempt to interrupt.

"You don't want her to hear, is that it? We might as well tell her now, save her the surprise!" Tonks grinned in a sly way. In the moment she looked more like Sirius than she ever had.

"Tell me what?" Danica snarled, her eyes going back and forth between Remus and Tonks. Something was wrong, she could feel it in the way Remus' shoulders tensed up. If she listened close enough she could hear the grinding of his teeth.

"Dora, don't do this," Remus warned, trying to sooth the fuming woman.

"Why? She has a right to know!"

"Just spit it out, already, Nymphadora!" Danica snapped, a growl burning in the back of her throat.

"Be quiet!" Remus shouted, trying his best to keep Danica from hearing. But there was no stopping Tonks.

"If Danica Lorenzo is with child before Harry Potter's defeat of Voldemort, all Order members are directed to detain her until the arrival of Harry Potter so that he may execute her and her unborn child. As the enemy of Lord Voldemort, and by the binding magic of the Vulture Spell Book, he is the only one able to kill her." Tonks tried to grin triumphantly but it came out as a grimace as she saw the pain of her words whip across the face of the man she loves.

"Sorry to burst your bloody bubble, cousin, but I'm not with child. Not yet. Therefore you have no grounds to detain me on. But if you try, and by a slim chance succeed, every single Order member will be murdered by my Death Eaters when they steal me back." Danica gave a winning smirk, unaware of the way Remus just flinched as if he had been struck.

"You disgust me, Danica," sneered Tonks, a hatred for the girl surging through her so powerfully that she was quaking with anger. "You were born a monster and you'll die a monster."

An ear splitting roar ripped through the house and Danica shoved Remus aside, pointed his wand at Tonks and growled,

"_Reducto!" _

Tonks dived out of the way at the last second, the curse blasting through the wall behind her. A red jet of light was shot at Danica but she leaned back, watching as it passed over her. She thrust her wand and tried to Stupefy Tonks but she was managing to dodge, the white powder of plaster caking her face and hair. Dora fired _Expelliarmus _at Danica but she merely threw her arm out and blocked it, sending it back to its caster. Tonks turned on the spot, the spell narrowly missing her arm.

Danica raised both her hands and the pieces of broken house transfigured into glass. With a shriek and a flourish of her arms, they jagged parts flew at Tonks. She froze them in mid-air, sucked in a lungful of air, and blew a gust of powerful wind, sending them back in Danica's direction. The girl threw herself against Remus' body at the last moment and they crashed to the ground, her arms over his head.

"He won't fight me, Danica! Remus loves me! Did you hear me, cousin? He loves me! Told me a few days ago. I dropped by to start moving my stuff in!"

Danica could feel Remus shaking his head, unable to fight either opponent. This was a mess, an awful mess and he was sure there was no way to dig himself out.

"I won, Danica! I got Remus! And you got nothing but a Master who is only using you to bear an abomination! How does it feel? To choose the wrong side?" Tonks was laughing, a crazed kind of laugh that worried Remus. She was being cruel, something very unlike his Dora.

She was consumed by her rage. She saw them kiss. And she was falling to pieces.

"I'm sorry, Rem," Danica whispered in his ear as Tonks sent more curses to fly over their heads. She kissed the back of his neck and he wanted to grab onto her and never let her go again. This was goodbye. He could feel the grief inside him rising again. It was a place he never wanted to return.

Danica switched their wands to take her own and kissed his graying hair one more time. "Don't watch."

Danica got up, her wand raised and the spell already leaving her lips. With a flash of orange light a curse hit Tonks square in the chest, knocking her off her feet.

The screams were unbearable. Tonks was unable to see, unable to hear. She writhed upon the floor in a fit of disorientation as all her senses were shut off, touch, taste, and smell too. The feeling of floating in limbo was wrapping around her, suffocating her until she felt like she would die of insanity.

Danica swiftly walked over her and headed to the door. When she reached it, with a lurch of her wand, Danica lifted the curse and Tonks wailed upon the floor. Her head felt like it would explode because of all the chaos crashing into her head at once with the return of her senses. She howled for Remus who rushed over, gathering her up into his arms. Danica was long gone.

He rocked the sobbing woman in his arms and she clutched at his shirt, apologizing over and over again until he felt his throat grow tight. Her eyes were wide and frightened as she stared up at him, tears streaming down her dirty face.

"I love you," she cried over and over, "I love you."

He buried his face in her hair, guilt washing over him in typhoon sized waves, and held her close, whispering into her ear in a soothing voice,

"I know. I know, Dora, I'm here."

After a few more minutes of her heartbreaking sobs, Tonks passed out, the shadow of his name still on her lips. He watched her face relax and with a croak he said to the broken and empty house,

"I love you too."


End file.
